387.  FULLER  (OSSOLI)    (S.  MARGARET).     Summer  on  til 
Lakes,  in  1843.    7  delicately  tinted  plates.     i2mo,  cloth,  uncut. 

Only  a  very  few  copies  were  issued  with  the  plates.  Bost.   1844 


' 


r 


SUMMER   ON   THE    LAKES 


ARCHED   ROCK    AT   MACKINAW 


SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES, 


IN    1843. 


BY 

S.    M.    FULLER. 


BOSTON: 
CHARLES  C.  LITTLE  AND  JAMES  BROWN. 

NEW    YORK: 
CHARLES  S.  FRANCIS  AND  COMPANY. 


MDCCCXLIV. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1844, 

By  S.  M.  FULLER, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


BOSTON:         /;  ;^ 
PRINTED  BY  FREEMAN  AND  BOLLES, 
WASHINGTON  STREET. 


SUMMER   ON    THE     LAKES, 


SUMMER  days  of  busy  leisure, 

Long  summer  days  of  dear-bought  pleasure, 

You  have  done  your  teaching  well ; 

Had  the  scholar  means  to  tell 

How  grew  the  vine  of  bitter-sweet, 

What  made  the  path  for  truant  feet, 

Winter  nights  would  quickly  pass, 

Gazing  on  the  magic  glass 

O'er  which  the  new-world  shadows  pass  ; 

But,  in  fault  of  wizard  spell, 

Moderns  their  tale  can  only  tell 

In  dull  words,  with  a  poor  reed 

Breaking  at  each  time  of  need. 

But  those  to  whom  a  hint  suffices 

Mottoes  find  for  all  devices, 

See  the  knights  behind  their  shields, 

Through  dried  grasses,  blooming  fields. 


TO   A   FRIEND. 


SOME  dried  grass-tufts  from  the  wide  flowery  plain, 
A  muscle  shell  from  the  lone  fairy  shore, 
Some  antlers  from  tall  woods  which  never  more 
To  the  wild  deer  a  safe  retreat  can  yield, 
An  eagle's  feather  which  adorned  a  Brave, 
Well-nigh  the  last  of  his  despairing  band, 
For  such  slight  gifts  wilt  thou  extend  thy  hand 
When  weary  hours  a  brief  refreshment  crave  1 
I  give  you  what  I  can,  not  what  I  would, 
If  my  small  drinking-cup  would  hold  a  flood, 
As  Scandinavia  sung  those  must  contain 
With  which  the  giants  gods  may  entertain  ; 
In  our  dwarf  day  we  drain  few  drops,  and  soon  must 
thirst  again. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Niagara,  June  10,  1843. 

SINCE  you  are  to  share  with  me  such  foot-notes  as 
may  be  made  on  the  pages  of  my  life  during  this 
summer's  wanderings,  I  should  not  be  quite  silent  as 
to  this  magnificent  prologue  to  the,  as  yet,  unknown 
drama.  Yet  I,  like  others,  have  little  to  say  where 
the  spectacle  is,  for  once,  great  enough  to  fill  the 
whole  life,  and  supersede  thought,  giving  us  only  its 
own  presence.  "  It  is  good  to  be  here/'  is  the  best 
as  the  simplest  expression  that  occurs  to  the  mind. 

We  have  been  here  eight  days,  and  I  am  quite 
willing  to  go  away.  So  great  a  sight  soon  satisfies, 
making  us  content  with  itself,  and  with  what  is  less 
than  itself.  Our  desires,  once  realized,  haunt  us 
again  less  readily.  Having  "  lived  one  day "  we 
would  depart,  and  become  worthy  to  live  another. 

We  have  not  been  fortunate  in  weather,  for  there 
cannot  be  too  much,  or  too  warm  sunlight  for  this 
scene,  and  the  skies  have  been  lowering,  with  cold, 
unkind  winds.  My  nerves,  too  much  braced  up  by 
such  an  atmosphere,  do  not  well  bear  the  continual 
stress  of  sight  and  sound.  For  here  there  is  no 
pe  from  the  weight  of  a  perpetual  creation  ;  all 
other  forms  and  motions  come  and  go,  the  tide  rises 


4  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

and  recedes,  the  wind,  at  its  mightiest,  moves  in 
gales  and  gusts,  but  here  is  really  an  incessant,  an 
indefatigable  motion.  Awake  or  asleep,  there  is  no 
escape,  still  this  rushing  round  you  and  through  you. 
It  is  in  this  way  I  have  most  felt  the  grandeur  — 
somewhat  eternal,  if  not  infinite. 

At  times  a  secondary  music  rises  ;  the  cataract 
seems  to  seize  its  own  rhythm  and  sing  it  over  again, 
so  that  the  ear  and  soul  are  roused  by  a  double  vi 
bration.  This  is  some  effect  of  the  wind,  causing 
echoes  to  the  thundering  anthem.  It  is  very  sub 
lime,  giving  the  effect  of  a  spiritual  repetition  through 
all  the  spheres. 

When  I  first  came  I  felt  nothing  but  a  quiet 
satisfaction.  I  found  that  drawings,  the  panorama, 
&c.  had  given  me  a  clear  notion  of  the  position  and 
proportions  of  all  objects  here  ;  I  knew  where  to 
look  for  everything,  and  everything  looked  as  I 
thought  it  would. 

Long  ago,  I  was  looking  from  a  hill-side  with  a 
friend  at  one  of  the  finest  sunsets  that  ever  enriched 
this  world.  A  little  cow-boy,  trudging  along,  won 
dered  what  we  could  be  gazing  at.  After  spying 
about  some  time,  he  found  it  could  only  be  the  sun 
set,  and  looking,  too,  a  moment,  he  said  approvingly 
"  that  sun  looks  well  enough;"  a  speech  worthy  of 
Shakspeare's  Cloten,  or  the  infant  Mercury,  up  to 
everything  from  the  cradle,  as  you  please  to  take  it. 

Even  such  a  familiarity,  worthy  of  Jonathan,  our 
national  hero,  in  a  prince's  palace,  or  "stumping" 
as  he  boasts  to  have  done,  "  up  the  Vatican  stairs, 
into  the  Pope's  presence,  in  my  old  boots,"  I  felt 


NIAGARA.  O 

here  ;  it  looks  really  well  enough,  I  felt,  and  was 
inclined,  as  you  suggested,  to  give  my  approbation 
as  to  the  one  object  in  the  world  that  would  not 
disappoint. 

But  all  great  expression,  which,  on  a  superficial 
survey,  seems  so  easy  as  well  as  so  simple,  furnishes, 
after  a  while,  to  the  faithful  observer  its  own  standard 
by  which  to  appreciate  it.  Daily  these  proportions 
widened  and  towered  more  and  more  upon  my  sight, 
and  I  got,  at  last,  a  proper  foreground  for  these  sub 
lime  distances.  Before  coming  away,  I  think  I  really 
saw  the  full  wonder  of  the  scene.  After  awhile  it  so 
drew  me  into  itself  as  to  inspire  an  undefined  dread, 
such  as  I  never  knew  before,  such  as  may  be  felt 
when  death  is  about  to  usher  us  into  a  new  existence. 
The  perpetual  trampling  of  the  waters  seized  my 
senses.  I  felt  that  no  other  sound,  however  near, 
could  be  heard,  and  would  start  and  look  behind  me 
for  a  foe.  I  realized  the  identity  of  that  mood  of 
nature  in  which  these  waters  were  poured  down 
with  such  absorbing  force,  with  that  in  which  the 
Indian  was  shaped  on  the  same  soil.  For  continually 
upon  my  mind  came,  unsought  and  unwelcome, 
images,  such  as  never  haunted  it  before,  of  naked 
savages  stealing  behind  me  with  uplifted  tomahawks ; 
again  and  again  this  illusion  recurred,  and  even  after 
I  had  thought  it  over,  and  tried  to  shake  it  off,  I 
could  not  help  starting  and  looking  behind  me. 

As  picture,  the  Falls  can  only  be  seen  from  the 

British  side.     There  they  are  seen  in  their  veils,  and 

at  sufficient  distance  to  appreciate  the  magical  effects 

of  these,  and  the  light  and  shade.     From  the  boat, 

1* 


6  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

as  you  cross,  the  effects  and  contrasts  are  more  melo 
dramatic.  On  the  road  back  from  the  whirlpool,  we 
saw  them  as  a  reduced  picture  with  delight.  But 
what  I  liked  best  was  to  sit  on  Table  Rock,  close  to 
the  great  fall.  There  all  power  of  observing  details, 
all  separate  consciousness,  was  quite  lost. 

Once,  just  as  I  had  seated  myself  there,  a  man 
came  to  take  his  first  look.  He  walked  close  up  to 
the  fall,  and,  after  looking  at  it  a  moment,  with  an 
air  as  if  thinking  how  he  could  best  appropriate  it  to 
his  own  use,  he  spat  into  it. 

This  trait  seemed  wholly  worthy  of  an  age  whose 
love  of  utility  is  such  that  the  Prince  Puckler  Mus- 
kau  suggests  the  probability  of  men  coming  to  put 
the  bodies  of  their  dead  parents  in  the  fields  to  fer 
tilize  them,  and  of  a  country  such  as  Dickens  has 
described ;  but  these  will  not,  I  hope,  be  seen  on  the 
historic  page  to  be  truly  the  age  or  truly  the  America. 
A  little  leaven  is  leavening  the  whole  mass  for  other 
bread. 

The  whirlpool  I  like  very  much.  It  is  seen  to  ad 
vantage  after  the  great  falls ;  it  is  so  sternly  solemn. 
The  riyer  cannot  look  more  imperturbable,  almost  sul 
len  in  its  marble  green,  than  it  does  just  below  the 
great  fall ;  but  the  slight  circles  that  mark  the  hidden 
vortex,  seem  to  whisper  mysteries  the  thundering 
voice  above  could  not  proclaim,  —  a  meaning  as  un 
told  as  ever. 

It  is  fearful,  too,  to  know,  as  you  look,  that  what 
ever  has  been  swallowed  by  the  cataract,  is  like  to 
rise  suddenly  to  light  here,  whether  up-rooted  tree, 
or  body  of  man  or  bird. 


NIAGARA.  7 

The  rapids  enchanted  me  far  beyond  what  I  ex 
pected  ;  they  are  so  swift  that  they  cease  to  seem  so ; 
you  can  think  only  of  their  beauty.  The  fountain 
beyond  the  Moss  Islands,  I  discovered  for  myself,  and 
thought  it  for  some  time  an  accidental  beauty  which 
it  would  not  do"  to  leave,  lest  I  might  never  see  it 
again.  After  I  found  it  permanent,  I  returned  many 
times  to  watch  the  play  of  its  crest.  In  the  little 
waterfall  beyond,  nature  seems,  as  she  often  does,  to 
have  made  a  study  for  some  larger  design.  She  delights 
in  this,  —  a  sketch  within  a  sketch,  a  dream  within  a 
dream.  Wherever  we  see  it,  the  lines  of  the  great 
buttress  in  the  fragment  of  stone,  the  hues  of  the 
waterfall,  copied  in  the  flowers  that  star  its  bordering 
mosses,  we  are  delighted  ;  for  all  the  lineaments  be 
come  fluent,  and  we  mould  the  scene  in  congenial 
thought  with  its  genius. 

People  complain  of  the  buildings  at  Niagara,  and 
fear  to  see  it  further  deformed.  I  cannot  sympathize 
with  such  an  apprehension :  the  spectacle  is  capable 
to  swallow  up  all  such  objects ;  they  are  not  seen  in 
the  great  whole,  more  than  an  earthworm  in  a  wide 
field. 

The  beautiful  wood  on  Goat  Island  is  full  of  flow 
ers  ;  many  of  the  fairest  love  to  do  homage  here. 
The  Wake  Robin  and  May  Apple  are  in  bloom  now ; 
the  former,  white,  pink,  green,  purple,  copying  the 
rainbow  of  the  fall,  and  fit  to  make  a  garland  for  its 
presiding  deity  when  he  walks  the  land,  for  they 
are  of  imperial  size,  and  shaped  like  stones  for  a  dia 
dem.  Of  the  May  Apple,  I  did  not  raise  one  green 
tent  without  finding  a  flower  beneath. 


8  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

And  now  farewell,  Niagara.  I  have  seen  thee, 
and  I  think  all  who  come  here  must  in  some  sort  see 
thee ;  thou  art  not  to  be  got  rid  of  as  easily  as  the 
stars.  I  will  be  here  again  beneath  some  flooding 
July  moon  and  sun.  Owing  to  the  absence  of  light, 
I  have  seen  the  rainbow  only  two  or  three  times  by 
day  ;  the  lunar  bow  not  at  all.  However,  the  impe 
rial  presence  needs  not  its  crown,  though  illustrated 
by  it. 

General  Porter  and  Jack  Downing  were  not  un 
suitable  figures  here.  The  former  heroically  planted 
the  bridges  by  which  we  cross  to  Goat  Island,  and 
the  Wake-Robin-crowned  genius  has  punished  his 
termerity  with  deafness,  which  must,  I  think,  have 
come  upon  him  when  he  sank  the  first  stone  in  the 
rapids.  Jack  seemed  an  acute  and  entertaining  rep 
resentative  of  Jonathan,  come  to  look  at  his  great 
water-privilege.  He  told  us  all  about  the  American 
isms  of  the  spectacle ;  that  is  to  say,  the  battles  that 
have  been  fought  here.  It  seems  strange  that  men 
could  fight  in  such  a  place  ;  but  no  temple  can  still  the 
personal  griefs  and  strifes  in  the  breasts  of  its  visiters. 

No  less  strange  is  the  fact  that,  in  this  neighbor 
hood,  an  eagle  should  be  chained  for  a  plaything. 
When  a  child,  I  used  often  to  stand  at  a  window 
from  which  I  could  see  an  eagle  chained  in  the  bal 
cony  of  a  museum.  The  people  used  to  poke  at  it 
with  sticks,  and  my  childish  heart  would  swell  with 
indignation  as  I  saw  their  insults,  and  the  mien  with 
which  they  were  borne  by  the  monarch-bird.  Its 
eye  was  dull,  and  its  plumage  soiled  and  shabby,  yet, 
in  its  form  and  attitude,  all  the  king  was  visible,  though 


NIAGARA.  9 

sorrowful  and  dethroned.  I  never  saw  another  of 
the  family  till,  when  passing  through  the  Notch  of 
the  White  Mountains,  at  that  moment  striding  be 
fore  us  in  all  the  panoply  of  sunset,  the  driver 
shouted,  "  Look  there  !  "  and  following  with  our 
eyes  his  upward-pointing  finger,  we  saw,  soaring  slow 
in  majestic  poise  above  the  highest  summit,  the  bird 
of  Jove.  It  was  a  glorious  sight,  yet  I  know  not 
that  I  felt  more  on  seeing  the  bird  in  all  its  natural 
freedom  and  royalty,  than  when,  imprisoned  and  in 
sulted,  he  had  filled  my  early  thoughts  with  the  By- 
ronic  "  silent  rages  "  of  misanthropy. 

Now,  again,  I  saw  him  a  captive,  and  addressed  by 
the  vulgar  with  the  language  they  seem  to  find  most 
appropriate  to  such  occasions  —  that  of  thrusts  and 
blows.  Silently,  his  head  averted,  he  ignored  their 
existence,  as  Plotinus  or  Sophocles  might  that  of  a 
modern  reviewer.  Probably,  he  listened  to  the  voice 
of  the  cataract,  and  felt  that  congenial  powers  flowed 
free,  and  was  consoled,  though  his  own  wing  was 
broken. 

The  story  of  the  Recluse  of  Niagara  interested 
me  a  little.  It  is  wonderful  that  men  do  not  oftener 
attach  their  lives  to  localities  of  great  beauty  —  that, 
when  once  deeply  penetrated,  they  will  let  themselves 
so  easily  be  borne  away  by  the  general  stream  of 
things,  to  live  any  where  and  any  how.  But  there  is 
something  ludicrous  in  being  the  hermit  of  a  show- 
place,  unlike  St.  Francis  in  his  mountain-bed,  where 
none  but  the  stars  and  rising  sun  ever  saw  him. 

There  is  also  a  "  guide  to  the  falls,"  who  wears 
his  title  labeled  on  his  hat ;  otherwise,  indeed,  one 


10  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

might  as  soon  think  of  asking  for  a  gentleman  usher 
to  point  out  the  moon.  Yet  why  should  we  wonder 
at  such,  either,  when  we  have  Commentaries  on 
Shakspeare,  and  Harmonies  of  the  Gospels  ? 

And  now  you  have  the  little  all  I  have  to  write. 
Can  it  interest  you  ?  To  one  who  has  enjoyed  the 
full  life  of  any  scene,  of  any  hour,  what  thoughts 
can  be  recorded  about  it,  seem  like  the  commas  and 
semicolons  in  the  paragraph,  mere  stops.  Yet  I 
suppose  it  is  not  so  to  the  absent.  At  least,  I  have 
read  things  written  about  Niagara,  music,  and  the 
like,  that  interested  me.  Once  I  was  moved  by  Mr. 
Greenwood's  remark,  that  he  could  not  realize  this 
marvel  till,  opening  his  eyes  the  next  morning  after 
he  had  seen  it,  his  doubt  as  to  the  possibility  of  its 
being  still  there,  taught  him  what  he  had  experienced. 
I  remember  this  now  with  pleasure,  though,  or  be 
cause,  it  is  exactly  the  opposite  to  what  I  myself  felt. 
For  all  greatness  affects  different  minds,  each  in  "  its 
own  particular  kind,"  and  the  variations  of  testimony 
mark  the  truth  of  feeling. 

I  will  add  a  brief  narrative  of  the  experience  of 
another  here,  as  being  much  better  than  anything  I 
could  write,  because  more  simple  and  individual. 

"  Now  that  I  have  left  this  '  Earth-wonder,'  and 
the  emotions  it  excited  are  past,  it  seems  not  so  much 
like  profanation  to  analyze  my  feelings,  to  recall  mi 
nutely  and  accurately  the  effect  of  this  manifestation 
of  the  Eternal.  But  one  should  go  to  such  a  scene 
prepared  to  yield  entirely  to  its  influences,  to  forget 
one's  little  self  and  one's  little  mind.  To  see  a  misera 
ble  worm  creep  to  the  brink  of  this  falling  world  of 


NIAGARA.  1 1 

waters,  and  watch  the  trembling  of  its  own  petty 
bosom,  and  fancy  that  this  is  made  alone  to  act  upon 
him  excites  —  derision  ?  —  No,  —  pity." 

As  I  rode  up  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  falls,  a 
solemn  awe  imperceptibly  stole  over  me,  and  the 
deep  sound  of  the  ever-hurrying  rapids  prepared 
my  mind  for  the  lofty  emotions  to  be  experienced. 
When  I  reached  the  hotel,  I  felt  a  strange  indiffer 
ence  about  seeing  the  aspiration  of  my  life's  hopes. 
I  lounged  about  the  rooms,  read  the  stage  bills  upon 
the  walls,  looked  over  the  register,  and,  finding  the 
name  of  an  acquaintance,  sent  to  see  if  he  was  still 
there.  What  this  hesitation  arose  from,  I  know 
not ;  perhaps  it  was  a  feeling  of  my  unworthiness  to 
enter  this  temple  which  nature  has  erected  to  its 
God. 

At  last,  slowly  and  thoughtfully  I  walked  down  to 
the  bridge  leading  to  Goat  Island,  and  when  I  stood 
upon  this  frail  support,  and  saw  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
of  tumbling,  rushing  rapids,  and  heard  their  everlast 
ing  roar,  my  emotions  overpowered  me,  a  choaking 
sensation  rose  to  my  throat,  a  thrill  rushed  through 
my  veins,  "  my  blood  ran  rippling  to  my  finger's 
ends."  This  was  the  climax  of  the  effect  which  the 
falls  produced  upon  me  —  neither  the  American  nor 
the  British  fall  moved  me  as  did  these  rapids.  For 
the  magnificence,  the  sublimity  of  the  latter  I  was 
prepared  by  descriptions  and  by  paintings.  When  I 
arrived  in  sight  of  them  I  merely  felt,  u  ah,  yes,  here 
is  the  fall,  just  as  I  have  seen  it  in  picture."  When 
I  arrived  at  the  terrapin  bridge,  I  expected  to  be 
overwhelmed,  to  retire  trembling  from  this  giddy 


12  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

eminence,  and  gaze  with  unlimited  wonder  and  awe 
upon  the  immense  mass  rolling  on  and  on,  but, 
somehow  or  other,  I  thought  only  of  comparing  the 
effect  on  my  mind  with  what  I  had  read  and  heard. 
I  looked  for  a  short  time,  and  then  with  almost  a 
feeling  of  disappointment,  turned  to  go  to  the  other 
points  of  view  to  see  if  I  was  not  mistaken  in  not 
feeling  any  surpassing  emotion  at  this  sight.  But 
from  the  foot  of  Biddle's  stairs,  and  the  middle  of 
the  river,  and  from  below  the  table  rock,  it  was  still 
"  barren,  barren  all."  And,  provoked  with  my  stu 
pidity  in  feeling  most  moved  in  the  wrong  place,  I 
turned  away  to  the  hotel,  determined  to  set  off  for 
Buffalo  that  afternoon.  But  the  stage  did  not  go, 
and,  after  nightfall,  as  there  was  a  splendid  moon,  I 
went  down  to  the  bridge,  and  leaned  over  the  para 
pet,  where  the  boiling  rapids  came  down  in  their 
might.  It  was  grand,  and  it  was  also  gorgeous  ;  the 
yellow  rays  of  the  moon  made  the  broken  waves 
appear  like  auburn  tresses  twining  around  the  black 
rocks.  But  they  did  not  inspire  me  as  before.  I 
felt  a  foreboding  of  a  mightier  emotion  to  rise  up 
and  swallow  all  others,  and  I  passed  on  to  the  ter 
rapin  bridge.  Everything  was  changed,  the  misty 
apparition  had  taken  off  its  many-colored  crown 
which  it  had  worn  by  day,  and  a  bow  of  silvery 
white  spanned  its  summit.  The  moonlight  gave  a 
poetical  indefiniteness  to  the  distant  parts  of  the 
waters,  and  while  the  rapids  were  glancing  in  her 
beams,  the  river  below  the  falls  was  black  as  night, 
save  where  the  reflection  of  the  sky  gave  it  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  shield  of  blued  steel.  No  gaping 


NIAGARA.  13 

tourists  loitered,  eyeing  with  their  glasses,  or  sketch 
ing  on  cards  the  hoary  locks  of  the  ancient  river  god. 
All  tended  to  harmonize  with  the  natural  grandeur 
of  the  scene.  I  gazed  long.  I  saw  how  here  muta 
bility  and  unchangeableness  were  united.  I  surveyed 
the  conspiring  waters  rushing  against  the  rocky  ledge 
to  overthrow  it  at  one  mad  plunge,  til], -like  toppling 
ambition,  o'erleaping  themselves,  they  fall  on  t'other 
side,  expanding  into  foam  ere  they  reach  the  deep 
channel  where  they  creep  submissively  away. 

Then  arose  in  my  breast  a  genuine  admiration, 
and  a  humble  adoration  of  the  Being  who  was  the 
architect  of  this  and  of  all.  Happy  were  the  first 
discoverers  of  Niagara,  those  who  could  come  una 
wares  upon  this  view  and  upon  that,  whose  feelings 
were  entirely  their  own.  With  what  gusto  does 
Father  Hennepin  describe  "  this  great  downfall  of 
water,"  « this  vast  and  prodigious  cadence  of  water, 
which  falls  down  after  a  surprising  and  astonishing 
manner,  insomuch  that  the  universe  does  not  afford 
its  parallel.  'Tis  true  Italy  and  Swedeland. boast  of 
some  such  things,  but  we  may  well  say  that  they  be 
sorry  patterns  when  compared  with  this  of  which  we 
do  now  speak." 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE    LAKES. 

SCENE,  STEAMBOAT  —  About  to  leave  Buffalo  — 
Baggage  coming  onboard  —  Passengers  bust 
ling  for  their  berths  —  Little  boys  persecuting 
everybody  with  their  newspapers  and  pamphlets 
—  /.,  S.  and  M.  huddled  up  in  a  forlorn  corner, 
behind  a  large  trunk  —  A  heavy  rain  falling. 

JVf.  Water,  water  everywhere.  After  Niagara 
one  would  like  a  dry  strip  of  existence.  And  at 
any  rate  it  is  quite  enough  for  me  to  have  it  under 
foot  without  having  it  over  head  in  this  way. 

J".  Ah,  do  not  abuse  the  gentle  element.  It  is 
hardly  possible  to  have  too  much  of  it,  and  indeed,  if 
I  were  obliged  to  choose  amid  the  four,  it  would  be 
the  one  in  which  I  could  bear  confinement  best. 

S.  You  would  make  a  pretty  Undine,  to  be 
sure ! 

J.  Nay,  I  only  offered  myself  as  a  Triton,  a 
boisterous  Triton  of  the  sounding  shell.  You,  M.  I 
suppose,  would  be  a  salamander,  rather. 

M.     No  !  that  is  too  equivocal  a  position,  whether 


THE     LAKES.  15 

in  modern  mythology,  or  Hoffman's  tales.  I  should 
choose  to  be  a  gnome. 

J.  That  choice  savors  of  the  pride  that  apes 
humility. 

M.  By  no  means ;  the  gnomes  are  the  most  im 
portant  of  all  the  elemental  tribes.  Is  it  not  they 
who  make  the  money  ? 

J.  And  are  accordingly  a  dark,  mean,  scoff 
ing,  

M.  You  talk  as  if  you  had  always  lived  in  that 
wild  unprofitable  element  you  are  so  fond  of,  where 
all  things  glitter,  and  nothing  is  gold ;  all  show  and 
no  substance.  My  people  work  in  the  secret,  and 
their  works  praise  them  in  the  open  light ;  they  re 
main  in  the  dark  because  only  there  such  marvels 
could  be  bred.  You  call  them  mean.  They  do  not 
spend  their  energies  on  their  own  growth,  or  their 
own  play,  but  to  feed  the  veins  of  mother  earth  with 
permanent  splendors,  very  different  from  what  she 
shows  on  the  surface. 

Think  of  passing  a  life,  not  merely  in  heaping 
together,  but  making  gold.  Of  all  dreams,  that  of 
the  alchymist  is  the  most  poetical,  for  he  looked  at 
the  finest  symbol.  Gold,  says  one  of  our  friends,  is 
the  hidden  light  of  the  earth,  it  crowns  the  mineral, 
as  wine  the  vegetable  order,  being  the  last  expres 
sion  of  vital  energy. 

J.     Have  you  paid  for  your  passage  ? 

M.     Yes  !  and  in  gold,  not  in  shells  or  pebbles. 

J.  No  really  wise  gnome  would  scoff  at  the 
water,  the  beautiful  water.  "  The  spirit  of  man  is 
like  the  water.37 


16  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

S.     Yes,  and  like  the  air  and  fire,  no  less. 

J.  Yes,  but  not  like  the  earth,  this  low-minded 
creature's  chosen  dwelling. 

M.  The  earth  is  spirit  made  fruitful, —  life. 
And  its  heart-beats  are  told  in  gold  and  wine. 

J,  Oh  !  it  is  shocking  to  hear  such  sentiments  in 
these  times.  I  thought  that  Bacchic  energy  of  yours 
was  long  since  repressed. 

M.  No !  I  have  only  learned  to  mix  water  with 
my  wine,  and  stamp  upon  my  gold  the  heads  of 
kings,  or  the  hieroglyphics  of  worship.  But  since  I 
have  learnt  to  mix  with  water,  let's  hear  what  you 
have  to  say  in  praise  of  your  favorite. 

J.  From  water  Venus  was  born,  what  more 
would  you  have  ?  It  is  the  mother  of  Beauty,  the 
girdle  of  earth,  and  the  marriage  of  nations. 

S.  Without  any  of  that  high-flown  poetry,  it  is 
enough,  I  think,  that  it  is  the  great  artist,  turning  all 
objects  that  approach  it  to  picture. 

J.  True,  no  object  that  touches  it,  whether  it  be 
the  cart  that  ploughs  the  wave  for  sea- weed,  or  the 
boat  or  plank  that  rides  upon  it,  but  is  brought  at 
once  from  the  demesne  of  coarse  utilities  into  that  of 
picture.  All  trades,  all  callings,  become  picturesque 
by  the  water's  side,  or  on  the  water.  The  soil,  the 
slovenliness  is  washed  out  of  every  calling  by  its 
touch.  All  river-crafts,  sea-crafts,  are  picturesque, 
are  poetical.  Their  very  slang  is  poetry. 

M.     The  reasons  for  that  are  complex. 

J.  The  reason  is,  that  there  can  be  no  plodding, 
groping  words  and  motions,  on  my  water  as  there 
are  on  your  earth.  There  is  no  time,  no  chance  for 


THE     LAKES.  17 

them  where  all  moves  so  rapidly,  though  so  smoothly, 
everything  connected  with  water  must  be  like  itself, 
forcible,  but  clear.  That  is  why  sea-slang  is  so 
poetical ;  there  is  a  word  for  everything  and  every 
act,  and  a  thing  and  an  act  for  every  word.  Sea 
men  must  speak  quick  and  bold,  but  also  with  utmost 
precision.  They  cannot  reef  and  brace  other  than  in 
a  Homeric  dialect  —  therefore,  —  (Steamboat  bell 
rings.)  But  I  must  say  a  quick  good-by. 

M.  What,  going,  going  back  to  earth  after  all 
this  talk  upon  the  other  side.  Well,  that  is  nowise 
Homeric,  but  truly  modern. 

J.  is  borne  off  without  time  for  any  reply,  but  a 
laugh  —  at  himself,  of  course. 

S.  and  M.  retire  to  their  state-rooms  to  forget  the 
wet,  the  chill  and  steamboat  smell  in  their  just-bought 
new  world  of  novels. 

Next  day,  when  we  stopped  at  Cleveland,  the  storm 
was  just  clearing  up ;  ascending  the  bluff,  we  had  one 
of  the  finest  views  of  the  lake  that  could  have  been 
wished.  The  varying  depths  of  these  lakes  give  to 
their  surface  a  great  variety  of  coloring,  and  beneath 
this  wild  sky  and  changeful  lights,  the  waters  present 
ed  kaleidoscopic  varieties  of  hues,  rich,  but  mournful. 
I  admire  these  bluffs  of  red,  crumbling  earth.  Here 
land  and  water  meet  under  very  different  auspices 
from  those  of  the  rock-bound  coast  to  which  I  have 
been  accustomed.  There  they  meet  tenderly  to  chal 
lenge,  and  proudly  to  refuse,  though  not  in  fact  re 
pel.  But  here  they  meet  to  mingle,  are  always  rush 
ing  together,  and  changing  places ;  a  new  creation 
takes  place  beneath  the  eye. 
2* 


18  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

The  weather  grew  gradually  clearer,  but  not  bright ; 
yet  we  could  see  the  shore  and  appreciate  the  extent 
of  these  noble  waters. 

Coming  up  the  river  St.-  Glair,  we  saw  Indians  for 
the  first  time.  They  were  camped  out  on  the  bank. 
It  was  twilight,  and  their  blanketed  forms,  in  listless 
groups  or  stealing  along  the  bank,  with  a  lounge  and 
a  stride  so  different  in  its  wildness  from  the  rudeness 
of  the  white  settler,  gave  me  the  first  feeling  that  I 
really  approached  the  West.  ,  ^ 

The  people,  on  the  boat  were  almost  all  New  Eng- 
landers,  seeking  their  fortunes.  They  had  brought 
with  them  their  habits  of  calculation,  their  cautious 
manners,  their  love  of  polemics.  It  grieved  me  to 
hear  these  immigrants  who  were  to  be  the  fathers  of 
^i  new  race,  all,  from  the  old  man  down  to  the  little 
girl,  talking  not  of  what  they  should  do,  but  of  what 
they  should  get  in  the  new  scene.  It  was  to  them  a 
prospect,  not  of  the  unfolding  nobler  energies,  but  of 
more  ease,  and  larger  accumulation.  It  wearied  me, 
too,  to  hear  Trinity  and  Unity  discussed  in  the  poor, 
narrow  doctrinal  way  on  these  free  waters ;  but  that 
will  soon  cease,  there  is  not  time  for  this  clash  of 
opinions  in  the  West,  where  the  clash  of  material  in 
terests  is  so  .noisy.  They  will  need  the  spirit  of 
religion  more  than  ever  to  guide  them,  but  will 
find  less  time  than  before  for  its  doctrine.  This 
change  was  to  me,  who  am  tired  of  the  war  of  words 
on  these  subjects,  and  believe  it  only  sows  the  wind 
to  reap  the  whirlwind,  refreshing,  but  I  argue  nothing 
from  it ;  there  is  nothing  real  in  the  freedom  of  thought 
at  the  West,  it  is  from  the  position  of  men's  lives,  not 


THE    LAKES.  19 

the  state  of  their  minds.  So  soon  as  they  have  time, 
unless  they  grow  better  meanwhile,  they  will  cavil  and 
criticise,  and  judge  other  men  by  their  own  standard, 
and  outrage  the  law  of  love  every  way,  just  as-  they 
do  with  us. 

We  reached  Mackinaw  the  evening  of  the  third 
day,  but,  to  my  great  disappointment,  it  was  too  late 
and  too  rainy  to  go  ashore.  The  beauty  of  the  island, 
though  seen  under  the  most  unfavorable  circum 
stances,  did  not  disappoint  my  expectations.  But  I 
shall  see  it  to  more  purpose  on  my  return. 

As  the  day  has  passed  dully,  a  cold  rain  prevent 
ing  us  from  keeping  out  in  the  air,  my  thoughts  have 
been  dwelling  on  a  story  tojd  when  we  were  off  De 
troit,  this  morning,  by  a  fellow  passenger,  and  whose 
moral  beauty  touched  me  profoundly. 

Some  years  ago,  said  Mrs.  L.,  my  father  and  mother 
stopped  to  dine  at  Detroit  A  short  time  before  din 
ner  my  father  met  in  the  hall  Captain  P.,  a  friend  of 
his  youthful  days.  He  had  loved  P.  extremely,  as 
did  many  who  knew  him,  and  had  not  been  surprised 
to  hear  of  the  distinction  and  popular  esteem  which 
his  wide  knowledge,  talents,  and  noble  temper  com 
manded,  as  he  went  onward  in  the  world.  P.  was 
every  way  fitted  to  succeed ;  his  aims  were  high,  but 
not  too  high  for  his  powers,  suggested  by  an  instinct 
of  his  own  capacities,  not  by  an  ideal  standard  drawn 
from  culture.  Though  steadfast  in  his  course,  it  was 
not  to  overrun  others,  his  wise  self-possession  was  no 
less  for  them  than  himself.  He  was  thoroughly  the 
gentleman,  gentle  because  manly,  and  was  a  striking 
instance  that  where  there  is  strength  for  sincere  cour- 


20  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

tesy,  there  is  no  need  of  other  adaptation  to  the  char 
acter  of  others,  to  make  one's  way  freely  and  grace 
fully  through  the  crowd. 

My  father  was  delighted  to  see  him,  and  after  a 
short  parley  in  the  hall  —  "  We  will  dine  together," 
he  cried,  "  then  we  shall  have  time  to  tell  all  our 
stories." 

P.  hesitated  a  moment,  then  said,  "  My  wife  is  with 
me." 

"  And  mine  with  me,"  said  my  father,  "  that's  well ; 
they,  too,  will  have  an  opportunity  of  getting  acquaint 
ed  and  can  entertain  one  another,  if  they  get  tired  of 
our  college  stories." 

P.  acquiesced,  with  a  grave  bow,  and  shortly  after 
they  all  met  in  the  dining-room.  My  father  was 
much  surprised  at  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  P.  He 
had  heard  that  his  friend  married  abroad,  but  nothing 
further,  and  he  was  not  prepared  to  see  the  calm,  dig 
nified  P.  with  a  woman  on  his  arm,  still  handsome, 
indeed,  but  whose  coarse  and  imperious  expression 
showed  as  low  habits  of  mind  as  her  exaggerated  dress 
and  gesture  did  of  education.  Nor  could  there  be  a 
greater  contrast  to  my  mother,  who,  though  under 
standing  her  claims  and  place  with  the  certainty  of  a 
lady,  was  soft  and  retiring  in  an  uncommon  degree. 

However,  there  was  no  time  to  wonder  or  fancy  ; 
they  sat  down,  and  P.  engaged  in  conversation,  with 
out  much  vivacity,  but  with  his  usual  ease.  The  first 
quarter  of  an  hour  passed  well  enough.  But  soon  it 
was  observable  that  Mrs.  P.  was  drinking  glass  after 
glass  of  wine,  to  an  extent  few  gentlemen  did,  even 
then,  and  soon  that  she  was  actually  excited  by  it. 


THE    LAKES.  21 

Before  this,  her  manner  had  been  brusque,  if  not  con 
temptuous  towards  her  new  acquaintance ;  now  it 
became,  towards  my  mother  especially,  quite  rude. 
Presently  she  took  up  some  slight  remark  made  by 
my  mother,  which,  though  it  did  not  naturally  mean 
anything  of  the  sort,  could  be  twisted  into  some  re 
flection  upon  England,  and  made  it  a  handle,  first 
of  vulgar  sarcasm,  arid  then,  upon  my  mother's  de 
fending  herself  with  some  surprise  and  gentle  dignity, 
hurled  upon  her  a  volley  of  abuse,  beyond  Billings 
gate. 

My  mother,  confounded,  feeling  scenes  and  ideas 
presented  to  her  mind  equally  new  and  painful,  sat 
trembling ;  she  knew  not  what  to  do,  tears  rushed  in 
to  her  eyes.  My  father,  no  less  distressed,  yet  un 
willing  to  outrage  the  feelings  of  his  friend  by  doing 
or  saying  what  his  indignation  prompted,  turned  an 
appealing  look  on  P. 

Never,  as  he  often  said,  was  the  painful  expression 
of  that  sight  effaced  from  his  mind.  It  haunted  his 
dreams  and  disturbed  his  waking  thoughts.  P.  sat 
with  his  head  bent  forward,  and  his  eyes  cast  down, 
pale,  but  calm,  with  a  fixed  expression,  not  merely  of 
patient  wo,  but  of  patient  shame,  which  it  would  not 
have  been  thought  possible  for  that  noble  counten 
ance  to  wear,  "  yet,"  said  my  father,  "  it  became  him. 
At  other  times  he  was  handsome,  but  then  beautiful, 
though  of  a  beauty  saddened  and  abashed.  Fora 
spiritual  light  borrowed  from  the  worldly  perfection 
of  his  mien  that  illustration  by  contrast,  which  the 
penitence  of  the  Magdalen  does  from  the  glowing 
earthliness  of  her  charms." 


22  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Seeing  that  he  preserved  silence,  while  Mrs.  P. 
grew  still  more  exasperated,  my  father  rose  and  led 
his  wife  to  her  own  room.  Half  an  hour  had  passed, 
in  painful  and  wondering  surmises,  when  a  gentle 
knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  P.  entered  equipped 
for  a  journey.  "  We  are  just  going,"  he  said,  and 
holding  out  his  hand,  but  without  looking  at  them, 
"  Forgive." 

They  each  took  his  hand,  and  silently  pressed  it, 
then  he  went  without  a  word  more. 

Some  time  passed  and  they  heard  now  and  then  of 
P.,  as  he  passed  from  one  army  station  to  another, 
with  his  uncongenial  companion,  who  became,  it  was 
said,  constantly  more  degraded.  Whoever  mentioned 
having  seen  them,  wondered  at  the  chance  which  had 
yoked  him  to  such  a  woman,  but  yet  more  at  the 
silent  fortitude  with  which  he  bore  it.  Many  blamed 
him  for  enduring  it,  apparently  without  efforts  to 
check  her;  others  answered  that  he  had  probably 
made  such  at  an  earlier  period,  and  finding  them  un 
availing,  had  resigned  himself  to  despair,  and  was  too 
delicate  to  meet  the  scandal  that,  with  such  a  resist 
ance  as  such  a  woman  could  offer,  must  attend  a  formal 
separation. 

But  my  father,  who  was  not  in  such  haste  to  come 
to  conclusions,  and  substitute  some  plausible  explana 
tion  for  the  truth,  found  something  in  the  look  of  P. 
at  that  trying  moment  to  which  none  of  these  expla 
nations  offered  a  key.  There  was  in  it,  he  felt,  a 
fortitude,  but  not  the  fortitude  of  the  hero,  a  religious 
submission,  above  the  penitent,  if  not  enkindled  with 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  martyr. 


THE    LAKES.  23 

I  have  said  that  my  father  was  not  one  of  those 
who  are  ready  to  substitute  specious  explanations  for 
truth,  and  those  who  are  thus  abstinent  rarely  lay 
their  hand  on  a  thread  without  making  it  a  clue. 
Such  an  one,  like  the  dexterous  weaver,  lets  not  one 
color  go,  till  he  finds  that  which  matches  it  in  the  pat 
tern  ;  he  keeps  on  weaving,  but  chooses  his  shades, 
and  my  father  found  at  last  what  he  wanted  to  make 
out  the  pattern  for  himself.  He  met  a  lady  who  had 
been  intimate  with  both  himself  and  P.  in  early  days, 
and  finding  she  had  seen  the  latter  abroad,  asked  if 
she  knew  the  circumstances  of  the  marriage.  "  The 
circumstances  of  the  act  I  know,"  she  said,  "  which 
sealed  the  misery  of  our  friend,  though  as  much  in 
the  dark  as  any  one  about  the  motives  that  led  to  it." 

We  were  quite  intimate  with  P.  in  London,  and 
he  was  our  most  delightful  companion.  He  was  then 
in  the  full  flower  of  the  varied  accomplishments,  which 
set  off  his  fine  manners  and  dignified  character,  join 
ed,  towards  those  he  loved,  with  a  certain  soft  wil 
lingness  which  gives  the  desirable  chivalry  to  a  man. 
None  was  more  clear  of  choice  where  his  personal 
affections  were  not  touched,  but  where  they  were,  it 
cost  him  pain  to  say  no,  on  the  slightest  occasion. 
I  have  thought  this  must  have  had  some  connexion 
with  the  mystery  of  his  misfortunes. 

One  day  he  called  on  me,  and,  without  any  preface, 
asked  if  I  would  be  present  next  day  at  his  marriage. 
I  was  so  surprised,  and  so  unpleasantly  surprised, 
that  I  did  not  at  first  answer  a  word.  We  had  been 
on  terms  so  familiar,  that  I  thought  I  knew  all  about 
him,  yet  had  never  dreamed  of  his  having  an  attach- 


24  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

ment,  and,  though  I  had  never  inquired  on  the  sub 
ject,  yet  this  reserve,  where  perfect  openness  had  been 
supposed,  and  really,  on  my  side,  existed,  seemed  to 
me  a  kind  of  treachery.  Then  it  is  never  pleasant  to 
know  that  a  heart,  on  which  we  have  some  claim,  is 
to  be  given  to  another.  We  cannot  tell  how  it  will 
affect  our  own  relations  with  a  person ;  it  may 
strengthen  or  it  may  swallow  up  other  affections ; 
the  crisis  is  hazardous,  and  our  first  thought,  on  such 
an  occasion,  is  too  often  for  ourselves,  at  least,  mine 
was.  Seeing  me  silent,  he  repeated  his  question. 

To  whom,  said  I,  are  you  to  be  married  ? 

That,  he  replied,  I  cannot  tell  you.  He  was  a 
moment  silent,  then  continued  with  an  impassive  look 
of  cold  self-possession,  that  affected  me  with  strange 
sadness. 

"  The  name  of  the  person  you  will  hear,  of  course, 
at  the  time,  but  more  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  need, 
however,  the  presence,  not  only  of  legal,  but  of  re 
spectable  and  friendly  witnesses.  I  have  hoped  you 
and  your  husband  would  do  me  this  kindness.  Will 
you  ? " 

Something  in  his  manner  made  it  impossible  to  re 
fuse.  I  answered  before  I  knew  I  was  going  to  speak, 
"  We  will,"  and  he  left  me. 

I  will  not  weary  you  with  telling  how  I  harassed 
myself  and  my  husband,  who  was,  however,  scarce 
less  interested,  with  doubts  and  conjectures.  Suffice 
it  that,  next  morning,  P.  came  and  took  us  in  a  car 
riage  to  a  distant  church.  We  had  just  entered  the 
porch  when  a  cart,  such  as  fruit  and  vegetables  are 
brought  to  market  in,  drove  up,  containing  an  elderly 


''&  THE    LAKES.  25 

woman  and  a  young  girl.  P.  assisted  them  to  alight, 
and  advanced  with  the  girl  to  the  altar. 

The  girl  was  neatly  dressed  and  quite  handsome, 
yet  something  in  her  expression  displeased  me  the 
moment  I  looked  upon  her.  Meanwhile  the  cere 
mony  was  going  on,  and,  at  its  close,  P.  introduced 
us  to  the  bride,  and  we  all  went  to  the  door. 

Good-by,  Fanny,  said  the  elderly  woman.  The 
new-made  Mrs.  P.  replied  without  any  token  of  af 
fection  or  emotion.  The  woman  got  into  the  cart 
and  drove  away. 

From  that  time  I  saw  but  little  of  P.  or  his  wife. 
I  took  our  mutual  friends  to  see  her,  and  they  were 
civil  to  her  for  his  sake.  Curiosity  was  very  much 
excited,  but  entirely  baffled  ;  no  one,  of  course,  dared 
speak  to  P.  on  the  subject,  and  no  other  means  could 
be  found  of  solving  the  riddle. 

He  treated  his  wife  with  grave  and  kind  politeness, 
but  it  was  always  obvious  that  they  had  nothing  in 
common  between  them.  Her  manners  and  tastes 
were  not  at  that  time  gross,  but  her  character  showed 
itself  hard  and  material.  She  was  fond  of  riding, 
and  spent  much  time  so.  Her  style  in  this,  and  in 
dress,  seemed  the  opposite  of  P.'s ;  but  he  indulged 
all  her  wishes,  while,  for  himself,  he  plunged  into  his 
own  pursuits. 

For  a  time  he  seemed,  if  not  happy,  not  positively 
unhappy ;  but,  after  a  few  years,  Mrs.  P.  fell  into  the 
habit  of  drinking,  and  then  such  scenes  as  you  wit 
nessed  grew  frequent.  I  have  often  heard  of  them, 
and  always  that  P.  sat,  as  you  describe  him,  his  head 
bowed  down  and  perfectly  silent  all  through,  what- 
3 


26  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

ever  might  be  done  or  whoever  be  present,  and  al 
ways  his  aspect  has  inspired  such  sympathy  that  no 
person  has  questioned  him  or  resented  her  insults, 
but  merely  got  out  of  the  way,  so  soon  as  possible. 

Hard  and  long  penance,  said  my  father,  after  some 
minutes  musing,  for  an  hour  of  passion,  probably  for 
his  only  error. 

Is  that  your  explanation  ?  said  the  lady.  O,  im 
probable.  P.  might  err,  but  not  be  led  beyond  him 
self. 

I  know  his  cool  gray  eye  and  calm  complexion 
seemed  to  say  so,  but  a  different  story  is  told  by  the 
lip  that  could  tremble,  and  showed  what  flashes  might 
pierce  those  deep  blue  heavens  ;  and  when  these  over 
intellectual  beings  do  swerve  aside,  it  is  to  fall  down 
a  precipice,  for  their  narrow  path  lies  over  sucn. 
But  he  was  not  one  to  sin  without  making  a  brave 
atonement,  and  that  it  had  become  a  holy  one,  was 
written  on  that  downcast  brow. 

The  fourth  day  on  these  waters,  the  weather  was 
milder  and  brighter,  so  that  we  could  now  see  them 
to  some  purpose.  At  night  was  clear  moon,  and, 
for  the  first  time,  from  the  upper  deck,  I  saw  one  of 
the  great  steamboats  come  majestically  up.  It  was 
glowing  with  lights,  looking  many-eyed  and  saga 
cious  ;  in  its  heavy  motion  it  seemed  a  dowager 
queen,  and  this  motion,  with  its  solemn  pulse,  and 
determined  sweep,  becomes  these  smooth  waters, 
especially  at  night,  as  much  as  the  dip  of  the  sail- 
ship  the  long  billows  of  the  ocean. 

But  it  was  not  so  soon  that  I  learned  to  appreciate 
the  lake  scenery ;  it  was  only  after  a  daily  and  care- 


THE     LAKES. 


27 


less  familiarity  that  I  entered  into  its  beauty,  for  na 
ture  always  refuses  to  be  seen  by  being  stared  at. 
Like  Bonaparte,  she  discharges  her  face  of  all  ex 
pression  when  she  catches  the  eye  of  impertinent 
curiosity  fixed  on  her.  But  he  who  has  gone  to 
sleep  in  childish  ease  on  her  lap,  or  leaned  an  aching 
brow  upon  her  breast,  seeking  there  comfort  with 
full  trust  as  from  a  mother,  will  see  all  a  mother's 
beauty  in  the  look  she  bends  upon  him.  Later,  I 
felt  that  I  had  really  seen  these  regions,  and  shall 
speak  of  them  again. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  on  shore  at  the  Manitou 
islands,  where  the  boat  stops  to  wood.  No  one 
lives  here  except  woodcutters  for  the  steamboats.  I 
had  thought  of  such  a  position,  from  its  mixture  of 
profound  solitude  with  service  to  the  great  world, 
as  possessing  an  ideal  beauty.  I  think  so  still,  after 
seeing  the  woodcutters  and  their  slovenly  huts. 

In  times  of  slower  growth,  man  did  not  enter  a 
situation  without  a  certain  preparation  or  adapted- 
ness  to  it.  He  drew  from  it,  if  not  to  the  poetical 
extent,  at  least,  in  some  proportion,  its  moral  and  its 
meaning.  The  woodcutter  did  not  cut  down  so 
many  trees  a  day,  that  the  hamadryads  had  not  time 
to  make  their  plaints  heard ;  the  shepherd  tended 
his  sheep,  and  did  no  jobs  or  chores  the  while  ;  the 
idyl  had  a  chance  to  grow  up,  and  modulate  his 
oaten  pipe.  But  now  the  poet  must  be  at  the  whole 
expense  of  the  poetry  in  describing  one  of  these 
positions ;  the  worker  is  a  true  Midas  to  the  gold  he 
makes.  The  poet  must  describe,  as  the  painter 
sketches  Irish  peasant  girls  and  Danish  fishwives, 
adding  the  beauty,  and  leaving  out  the  dirt. 


28  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

I  come  to  the  west  prepared  for  the  distaste  I  must 
experience  at  its  mushroom  growth.  I  know  that 
where  "  go  ahead "  is  the  only  motto,  the  village 
cannot  grow  into  the  gentle  proportions  that  suc 
cessive  lives,  and  the  gradations  of  experience  in 
voluntarily  give.  In  older  countries  the  house  of  the 
son  grew  from  that  of  the  father,  as  naturally  as  new 
joints  on  a  bough.  And  the  cathedral  crowned  the 
whole  as  naturally  as  the  leafy  summit  the  tree.  This 
cannot  be  here.  The  march  of  peaceful  is  scarce 
less  wanton  than  that  of  warlike  invasion.  The  old 
landmarks  are  broken  down,  and  the  land,  for  a  sea 
son,  bears  none,  except  of  the  rudeness  of  conquest 
and  the  needs  of  the  day,  whose  bivouac  fires  blacken 
the  sweetest  forest  glades.  I  have  come  prepared  to 
see  all  this,  to  dislike  it,  but  not  with  stupid  narrow 
ness  to  distrust  or  defame.  On  the  contrary,  while 
I  will  not  be  so  obliging  as  to  confound  ugliness  with 
beauty,  discord  with  harmony,  and  laud  and  be  con 
tented  with  all  I  meet,  when  it  conflicts  with  my 
best  desires  and  tastes,  I  trust  by  reverent  faith  to 
woo  the  mighty  meaning  of  the  scene,  perhaps  to 
foresee  the  law  by  which  a  new  order,  a  new  poetry 
is  to  be  evoked  from  this  chaos,  and  with  a  curiosity 
as  ardent,  but  not  so  selfish  as  that  of  Macbeth,  to  call 
up  the  apparitions  of  future  kings  from  the  strange 
ingredients  of  the  witch's  caldron.  Thus,  I  will  not 
grieve  that  all  the  noble  trees  are  gone  already  from 
this  island  to  feed  this  caldron,  but  believe  it  will 
have  Medea's  virtue,  and  reproduce  them  in  the 
form  of  new  intellectual  growths,  since  centuries  can 
not  again  adorn  the  land  with  such. 


THE    LAKES.  29 

On  this  most  beautiful  beach  of  smooth  white  peb 
bles,  interspersed  with  agates  and  cornelians,  for 
those  who  know  how  to  find  them,  we  stepped,  not 
like  the  Indian,  with  some  humble  offering,  which,  if 
no  better  than  an  arrow-head  or  a  little  parched 
corn,  would,  he  judged,  please  the  Manitou,  who 
looks  only  at  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  offered.  Our 
visit  was  so  far  for  a  religious  purpose  that  one  of  our 
party  went  to  inquire  the  fate  of  some  Unitarian 
tracts  left  among  the  woodcutters  a  year  or  two  be 
fore.  But  the  old  Manitou,  though,  daunted  like  his 
children  by  the  approach  of  the  fire-ships  which  he 
probably  considered  demons  of  a  new  dynasty,  he 
had  suffered  his  woods  to  be  felled  to  feed  their 
pride,  had  been  less  patient  of  an  encroachment, 
which  did  not  to  him  seem  so  authorized  by  the  law 
of  the  strongest,  and  had  scattered  those  leaves  as 
carelessly  as  the  others  of  that  year. 

But  S.  and  I,  like  other  emigrants,  went  not  to 
give,  but  to  get,  to  rifle  the  wood  of  flowers  for  the 
service  of  the  fire-ship.  We  returned  with  a  rich 
booty,  among  which  was  the  uva  ursi,  whose  leaves 
the  Indians  smoke,  with  the  kinnick-kinnick,  and 
which  had  then  just  put  forth  its  highly-finished  little 
blossoms,  as  pretty  as  those  of  the  blueberry. 

Passing  along  still  further,  I  thought  it  would  be 
well  if  the  crowds  assembled  to  stare  from  the  va 
rious  landings  were  still  confined  to  the  kinnick-kin 
nick,  for  almost  all  had  tobacco  written  on  their 
faces,  their  cheeks  rounded  with  plugs,  their  eyes 
dull  with  its  fumes.  We  reached  Chicago  on  the 
evening  of  the  sixth  day,  having  been  out  five  days 
3* 


30  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

and  a  half,  a  rather  longer  passage  than  usual  at  a 
favorable  season  of  the  year. 

Chicago,  June  20. 

There  can  be  no  two  places  in  the  world  more 
completely  thoroughfares  than  this  place  and  Buffalo. 
They  are  the  two  correspondent  valves  that  open  and 
shut  all  the  time,  as  the  life-blood  rushes  from  east 
to  west,  and  back  again  from  west  to  east. 

Since  it  is  their  office  thus  to  be  the  doors,  and  let 
in  and  out,  it  would  be  unfair  to  expect  from  them 
much  character  of  their  own.  To  make  the  best 
provisions  for  the  transmission  of  produce  is  their 
office,  and  the  people  who  live  there  are  such  as  are 
suited  for  this ;  active,  complaisant,  inventive,  business 
people.  There  are  no  provisions  for  the  student  or 
idler;  to  know  what  the  place  can  give,  you  should 
be  at  work  with  the  rest,  the  mere  traveller  will  not 
find  it  profitable  to  loiter  there  as  I  did. 

Since  circumstances  made  it  necessary  for  me  so 
to  do,  I  read  all  the  books  I  could  find  about  the 
new  region,  which  now  began  to  become  real  to 
me.  All  the  books  about  the  Indians,  a  paltry  col 
lection,  truly,  yet  which  furnished  material  for  many 
thoughts.  The  most  narrow-minded  and  awkward 
recital  still  bears  some  lineaments  of  the  great  fea 
tures  of  this  nature,  and  the  races  of  men  that 
illustrated  them. 

Catlin?s  book  is  far  the  best.  I  was  afterwards 
assured  by  those  acquainted  with  the  regions  he 
describes,  that  he  is  not  to  be  depended  on  for  the 
accuracy  of  his  facts,  and,  indeed,  it  is  obvious,  with- 


CHICAGO.  31 

out  the  aid  of  such  assertions,  that  he  sometimes 
yields  to  the  temptation  of  making  out  a  story. 
They  admitted,  however,  what  from  my  feelings  I 
was  sure  of,  that  he  is  true  to  the  spirit  of  the  scene, 
and  that  a  far  better  view  can  be  got  from  him  than 
from  any  source  at  present  existing,  of  the  Indian 
tribes  of  the  far  west,  and  of  the  country  where  their 
inheritance  lay. 

Murray's  travels  I  read,  and  was  charmed  by  their 
accuracy  and  clear  broad  tone.  He  is  the  only 
Englishman  that  seems  to  have  traversed  these  re 
gions,  as  man,  simply,  not  as  John  Bull.  He  de 
serves  to  belong  to  an  aristocracy,  for  he  showed  his 
title  to  it  more  when  left  without  a  guide  in  the 
wilderness,  than  he  can  at  the  court  of  Victoria.  He 
has,  himself,  no  poetic  force  at  description,  but  it. is 
easy  to  make  images  from  his  hints.  Yet  we  believe 
the  Indian  cannot  be  looked  at  truly  except  by  a 
poetic  eye.  The  Pawnees,  no  doubt,  are  such  as  he 
describes  them,  filthy  in  their  habits,  and  treacherous 
in  their  character,  but  some  would  have  seen,  and 
seen  truly,  more  beauty  and  dignity  than  he  does 
with  all  his  manliness  and  fairness  of  mind.  How 
ever,  his  one  fine  old  man  is  enough  to  redeem  the 
rest,  and  is  perhaps  the  relic  of  a  better  day,  a  Pho- 
cion  among  the  Pawnees. 

Schoolcraft's  A Igic  Researches  is  a  valuable  book, 
though  a  worse  use  could  hardly  have  been  made  of 
such  fine  material.  Had  the  mythological  or  hunt 
ing  stories  of  the  Indians  been  written  down  exactly 
as  they  were  received  from  the  lips  of  the  narrators, 
the  collection  could  not  have  been  surpassed  in  in- 


32  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

terest,  both  for  the  wild  charm  they  carry  with  them, 
and  the  light  they  throw  on  a  peculiar  modification 
of  life  and  mind.  As  it  is,  though  the  incidents 
have  an  air  of  originality  and  pertinence  to  the  occa 
sion,  that  gives  us  confidence  that  they  have  not 
been  altered,  the  phraseology  in  which  they  were 
expressed  has  been  entirely  set  aside,  and  the  flimsy 
graces,  common  to  the  style  of  annuals  and  souve 
nirs,  substituted  for  the  Spartan  brevity  and  sinewy 
grasp  of  Indian  speech.  We  can  just  guess  what 
might  have  been  there,  as  we  can  detect  the  fine 
proportions  of  the  Brave  whom  the  bad  taste  of  some 
white  patron  has  arranged  in  frock-coat,  hat,  and 
pantaloons. 

The  few  stones  Mrs.  Jameson  wrote  out,  though 
to  these  also  a  sentimental  air  has  been  given,  offend 
much  less  in  that  way  than  is  common  in  this  book. 
What  would  we  give  for  a  completely  faithful  ver 
sion  of  some  among  them.  Yet  with  all  these  draw 
backs  we  cannot  doubt  from  internal  evidence  that 
they  truly  ascribe  to  the  Indian  a  delicacy  of  senti 
ment  and  of  fancy  that  justifies  Cooper  in  such  in 
ventions  as  his  Uncas.  It  is  a  white  man's  view  of 
a  savage  hero,  who  would  be  far  finer  in  his  natural 
proportions ;  still,  through  a  masquerade  figure,  it 
implies  the  truth. 

Irving's  books  I  also  read,  some  for  the  first,  some 
for  the  second  time,  with  increased  interest,  now  that 
I  was  to  meet  such  people  as  he  received  his  mate 
rials  from.  Though  the  books  are  pleasing  from 
their  grace  and  luminous  arrangement,  yet,  with 
the  exception  of  the  Tour  to  the  Prairies,  they 


CHICAGO.  33 

have  a  stereotype,  second-hand  air.  They  lack  the 
breath,  the  glow,  the  charming  minute  traits  of  living 
presence.  His  scenery  is  only  fit  to  be  glanced  at 
from  dioramic  distance  ;  his  Indians  are  academic 
figures  only.  He  would  have  made  the  best  of  pic 
tures,  if  he  could  have  used  his  own  eyes  for  studies 
and  sketches ;  as  it  is,  his  success  is  wonderful,  but 
inadequate. 

McKenney's  Tour  to  the  Lakes  is  the  dullest  of 
books,  yet  faithful  and  quiet,  and  gives  some  facts  not 
to  be  met  with  elsewhere. 

I  also  read  a  collection  of  Indian  anecdotes  and 
speeches,  the  worst  compiled  and  arranged  book  pos 
sible,  yet  not  without  clues  of  some  value.  All  these 
books  I  read  in  anticipation  of  a  canoe-voyage  on 
Lake  Superior  as  far  as  the  Pictured  Rocks,  and, 
though  I  was  afterwards  compelled  to  give  up  this 
project,  they  aided  me  in  judging  of  what  I  after 
wards  saw  and  heard  of  the  Indians. 

In  Chicago  I  first  saw  the  beautiful  prairie  flowers. 
They  were  in  their  glory  the  first  ten  days  we  were 
there  — 

"  The  golden  and  the  flame-like  flowers." 

The  flame-like  flower  I  was  taught  afterwards,  by 
an  Indian  girl,  to  call  "  Wickapee  ;"  and  she  told  me, 
too,  that  its  splendors  had  a  useful  side,  for  it  was 
used  by  the  Indians  as  a  remedy  for  an  illness  to 
which  they  were  subject. 

Beside  these  brilliant  flowers,  which  gemmed  and 
gilt  the  grass  in  a  sunny  afternoon's  drive  near  the 
blue  lake,  between  the  low  oakwood  and  the  narrow 


34  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

beach,  stimulated,  whether  sensuously  by  the  optic 
nerve,  unused  to  so  much  gold  and  crimson  with  such 
tender  green,  or  symbolically  through  some  meaning 
dimly  seen  in  the  flowers,  I  enjoyed  a  sort  of  fairy 
land  exultation  never  felt  before,  and  the  first  drive 
amid  the  flowers  gave  me  anticipation  of  the  beauty 
of  the  prairies. 

At  first,  the  prairie  seemed  to  speak  of  the  very 
desolation  of  dullness.  After  sweeping  over  the  vast 
monotony  of  the  lakes  to  come  to  this  monotony  of 
land,  with  all  around  a  limitless  horizon, — to  walk,  and 
walk,  and  run,  but  never  climb,  oh  !  it  was  too  dreary 
for  any  but  a  Hollander  to  bear.  How  the  eye  greet 
ed  the  approach  of  a  sail,  or  the  smoke  of  a  steam 
boat  ;  it  seemed  that  any  thing  so  animated  must 
come  from  a  better  land,  where  mountains  gave  re 
ligion  to  the  scene. 

The  only  thing  I  liked  at  first  to  do,  was  to  trace 
with  slow  and  unexpecting  step  the  narrow  margin  of 
the  lake.  Sometimes  a  heavy  swell  gave  it  expres 
sion  ;  at  others,  only  its  varied  coloring,  which  I  found 
more  admirable  every  day,  and  which  gave  it  an  air 
of  mirage  instead  of  the  vastness  of  ocean.  Then 
there  was  a  grandeur  in  the  feeling  that  I  might  con 
tinue  that  walk,  if  I  had  any  seven-leagued  mode  of 
conveyance  to  save  fatigue,  for  hundreds  of  miles 
without  an  obstacle  and  without  a  change. 

But  after  I  had  rode  out,  and  seen  the  flowers  and 
seen  the  sun  set  with  that  calmness  seen  only  in  the 
prairies,  and  the  cattle  winding  slowly  home  to  their 
homes  in  the  "island  groves"  —  peacefulest  of 
sights  —  I  began  to  love  because  I  began  to  know 


CHICAGO.  35 

the  scene,  and  shrank  no  longer  from  "  the  encir 
cling  vastness." 

It  is  always  thus  with  the  new  form  of  life ;  we 
must  learn  to  look  at  it  by  its  own  standard.  At  first, 
no  doubt  my  accustomed  eye  kept  saying,  if  the 
mind  did  not,  What !  no  distant  mountains  ?  what, 
no  valleys  ?  But  after  a  while  I  would  ascend  the 
roof  of  the  house  where  we  lived,  and  pass  many 
hours,  needing  no  sight  but  the  moon  reigning  in  the 
heavens,  or  starlight  falling  upon  the  lake,  till  all  the 
lights  were  out  in  the  island  grove  of  men  beneath 
my  feet,  and  felt  nearer  heaven  that  there  was  no 
thing  but  this  lovely,  still  reception  on  the  earth  ;  no 
towering  mountains,  no  deep  tree-shadows,  nothing 
but  plain  earth  and  water  bathed  in  light. 

Sunset,  as  seen  from  that  place,  presented  most 
generally,  low-lying,  flaky  clouds,  of  the  softest  se 
renity,  "  like,"  said  S.,  "  the  Buddhist  tracts." 

One  night  a  star  shot  madly  from  its  sphere,  and 
it  had  a  fair  chance  to  be  seen,  but  that  serenity  could 
not  be  astonished. 

Yes  !  it  was  a  peculiar  beauty  of  those  sunsets  and 
moonlights  on  the  levels  of  Chicago  which  Chamou- 
ny  or  the  Trosachs  could  not  make  me  forget. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  attractions  I  thus  found 
out  by  degrees  on  the  flat  shores  of  the  lake,  I  was 
delighted  when  I  found  myself  really  on  my  way  into 
the  country  for  an  excursion  of  two  or  three  weeks. 
We  set  forth  in  a  strong  wagon,  almost  as  large,  and 
with  the  look  of  those  used  elsewhere  for  transport 
ing  caravans  of  wild  beasteses,  loaded  with  every 
thing  we  might  want,  in  case  nobody  would  give  it 


36  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

to  us  —  for  buying  and  selling  were  no  longer  to  be 
counted  on  —  with  a  pair  of  strong  horses,  able  and 
willing  to  force  their  way  through  mud  holes  and 
amid  stumps,  and  a  guide,  equally  admirable  as  mar 
shal  and  companion,  who  knew  by  heart  the  country 
and  its  history,  both  natural  and  artificial,  and  whose 
clear  hunter's  eye  needed  neither  road  nor  goal  to 
guide  it  to  all  the  spots  where  beauty  best  loves  to 
dwell. 

Add  to  this  the  finest  weather,  and  such  country 
as  I  had  never  seen,  even  in  my  dreams,  although 
these  dreams  had  been  haunted  by  wishes  for  just 
such  an  one,  and  you  may  judge  whether  years  of 
dullness  might  not,  by  these  bright  days,  be  redeemed, 
and  a  sweetness  be  shed  over  all  thoughts  of  the 
West. 

The  first  day  brought  us  through  woods  rich  in  the 
moccasin  flower  and  lupine,  and  plains  whose  soft 
expanse  was.  continually  touched  with  expression  by 
the  slow  moving  clouds  which 

"  Sweep  over  with  their  shadows,  and  beneath 
The  surface  rolls  and  fluctuates  to  the  eye  ; 
Dark  hollows  seem  to  glide  along  and  chase 
The  sunny  ridges," 

to  the  banks  of  the  Fox  river,  a  sweet  and  graceful 
stream.  We  reached  Geneva  just  in  time  to  escape 
being  drenched  by  a  violent  thunder  shower,  whose 
rise  and  disappearance  threw  expression  into  all  the 
features  of  the  scene. 

Geneva  reminds  me  of  a  New  England  village,  as 
indeed  there,  and  in  the  neighborhood,  are  many  New 


GENEVA.  37 

Englanders  of  an  excellent  stamp,  generous,  intelli 
gent,  discreet,  and  seeking  to  win  from  life  its  true 
values.  Such  are  much  wanted,  and  seem  like  points 
of  light  among  the  swarms  of  settlers,  whose  aims  are 
sordid,  whose  habits  thoughtless  and  slovenly. 

With  great  pleasure  we  heard,  with  his  attentive 
and  affectionate  congregation,  the  Unitarian  clergy 
man,  Mr.  Conant,  and  afterward  visited  him  in  his 
house,  where  almost  everything  bore  traces  of  his 
own  handywork  or  that  of  his  father.  He  is  just 
such  a  teacher  as  is  wanted  in  this  region,  familiar 
enough  with  the  habits  of  those  he  addresses  to  come 
home  to  their  experience  and  their  wants  ;  earnest 
and  enlightened  enough  to  draw  the  important  infer 
ences  from  the  life  of  every  day. 

A  day  or  two  we  remained  here,  and  passed  some 
happy  hours  in  the  woods  that  fringe  the  stream, 
where  the  gentlemen  found  a  rich  booty  of  fish. 

Next  day,  travelling  along  the  river's  banks,  was 
an  uninterrupted  pleasure.  We  closed  our  drive  in 
the  afternoon  at  the  house  of  an  English  gentleman, 
who  has  gratified,  as  few  men  do,  the  common  wish 
to  pass  the  evening  of  an  active  day  amid  the  quiet 
influences  of  country  life.  He  showed  us  a  book 
case  filled  with  books  about  this  country  ;  these  he 
had  collected  for  years,  and  become  so  familiar  with 
the  localities  that,  on  coming  here  at  last,  he  sought 
and  found,  at  once,  the  very  spot  he  wanted,  and 
where  he  is  as  content  as  he  hoped  to  be,  thus  real 
izing  Wordsworth's  description  of  the  wise  rnan,  who 
"  sees  what  he  foresaw." 

A  wood  surrounds  the  house,  through  which  paths 
4 


38  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

are  cut  in  every  direction.  It  is,  for  this  new  coun 
try,  a  large  and  handsome  dwelling  ;  but  round  it  are 
its  barns  and  farm  yard,  with  cattle  and  poultry. 
These,  however,  in  the  framework  of  wood,  have  a 
very  picturesque  and  pleasing  effect.  There  is  that 
mixture  of  culture  and  rudeness  in  the  aspect  of 
things  as  gives  a  feeling  of  freedom,  not  of  confusion. 

I  wish  it  were  possible  to  give  some  idea  of  this 
scene  as  viewed  by  the  earliest  freshness  of  dewy 
dawn.  This  habitation  of  man  seemed  like  a  nest  in 
the  grass,  so  thoroughly  were  the  buildings  and  all  the 
objects  of  human  care  harmonized  with  what  was 
natural.  The  tall  trees  bent  and  whispered  all  around, 
as  if  to  hail  with  sheltering  love  the  men  who  had 
come  to  dwell  among  them. 

The  young  ladies  were  musicians,  and  spoke  French 
fluently,  having  been  educated  in  a  convent.  Here 
in  the  prairie,  they  had  learned  to  take  care  of  the 
milk-room,  and  kill  the  rattlesnakes  that  assailed 
their  poultry  yard.  Beneath  the  shade  of  heavy  cur 
tains  you  looked  out  from  the  high  and  large  win 
dows  to  see  Norwegian  peasants  at  work  in  their 
national  dress.  In  the  wood  grew,  not  only  the 
flowers  I  had  before  seen,  and  wealth  of  tall,  wild 
roses,  but  the  splendid  blue  spiderwort,  that  or 
nament  of  our  gardens.  Beautiful  children  strayed 
there,  who  were  soon  to  leave  these  civilized  regions 
for  some  really  wild  and  western  place,  a  post 
in  the  buffalo  country.  Their  no  less  beautiful 
mother  was  of  Welsh  descent,  and  the  eldest  child 
bore  the  name  of  Gwynthleon.  Perhaps  there  she 
will  meet  with  some  young  descendants  of  Madoc,  to 


A    THUNDER    STORM.  39 

be  her  friends  ;  at  any  rate,  her  looks  may  retain  that 
sweet,  wild  beauty,  that  is  soon  made  to  vanish  from 
eyes  which  look  too  much  on  shops  and  streets,  and 
the  vulgarities  of  city  "  parties." 

Next  day  we  crossed  the  river.  We  ladies  crossed 
on  a  little  foot-bridge,  from  which  we  could  look  down 
the  stream,  and  see  the  wagon  pass  over  at  the  ford. 
A  black  thunder  cloud  was  coming  up.  The  sky 
and  waters  heavy  with  expectation.  The  motion  of 
the  wagon,  with  its  white  cover,  and  the  laboring 
horses,  gave  just  the  due  interest  to  the  picture,  be 
cause  it  seemed  as  if  they  would  not  have  time  to 
cross  before  the  storm  came  on.  However,  they  did 
get  across,  and  we  were  a  mile  or  two  on  our  way 
before  the  violent  shower  obliged  us  to  take  refuge 
in  a  solitary  house  upon  the  prairie.  In  this  coun 
try  it  is  as  pleasant  to  stop  as  to  go  on,  to  lose 
your  way  as  to  find  it,  for  the  variety  in  the  popula 
tion  gives  you  a  chance  for  fresh  entertainment  in 
every  hut,  and  the  luxuriant  beauty  makes  every 
path  attractive.  In  this  house  we  found  a  family 
"  quite  above  the  common,"  but,  I  grieve  to  say,  not 
above  false  pride,  for  the  father,  ashamed  of  being 
caught  barefoot,  told  us  a  story  of  a  man,  one  of  the 
richest  men,  he  said,  in  one  of  the  eastern  cities,  who 
went  barefoot,  from  choice  and  taste. 

Near  the  door  grew  a  Provence  rose,  then  in  blos 
som.  Other  families  we  saw  had  brought  with  them 
and  planted  the  locust.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  their 
old  home  loves,  brought  into  connection  with  their 
new  splendors.  Wherever  there  were  traces  of  this 
tenderness  of  feeling,  only  too  rare  among  Americans, 


40  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

other  things  bore  signs  also  of  prosperity  and  intelli 
gence,  as  if  the  ordering  mind  of  man  had  some  idea 
of  home  beyond  a  mere  shelter,  beneath  which  to  eat 
and  sleep. 

No  heaven  need  wear  a  lovelier  aspect  than  earth 
did  this  afternoon,  after  the  clearing  up  of  the 
shower.  We  traversed  the  blooming  plain,  un 
marked  by  any  road,  only  the  friendly  track  of 
wheels  which  tracked,  not  broke  the  grass.  Our 
stations  were  not  from  town  to  town,  but  from 
grove  to  grove.  These  groves  first  floated  like  blue 
islands  in  the  distance.  As  we  drew  nearer,  they 
seemed  fair  parks,  and  the  little  log  houses  on  the 
edge,  with  their  curling  smokes,  harmonized  beauti 
fully  with  them. 

One  of  these  groves,  Ross's  grove,  we  reached  just 
at  sunset.  It  was  of  the  noblest  trees  I  saw  during 
this  journey,  for  the  trees  generally  were  not  large 
or  lofty,  but  only  of  fair  proportions.  Here  they 
were  large  enough  to  form  with  their  clear  stems  pil 
lars  for  grand  cathedral  aisles.  There  was  space 
enough  for  crimson  light  to  stream  through  upon  the 
floor  of  water  which  the  shower  had  left.  As  we 
slowly  plashed  through,  I  thought  I  was  never  in  a 
better  place  for  vespers. 

That  night  we  rested,  or  rather  tarried  at  a  grove 
some  miles  beyond,  and  there  partook  of  the  miseries 
so  often  jocosely  portrayed,  of  bedchambers  for 
twelve,  a  milk  dish  for  universal  handbasin,  and  ex 
pectations  that  you  would  use  and  lend  your  "  han- 
kercher  "  for  a  towel.  But  this  was  the  only  night, 
thanks  to  the  hospitality  of  private  families,  that  we 


PAP  AW    GROVE.  41 

passed  thus,  and  it  was  well  that  we  had  this  bit  of 
experience,  else  might  we  have  pronounced  all  Trol- 
lopian  records  of  the  kind  to  be  inventions  of  pure 
malice. 

With  us  was  a  young  lady  who  showed  herself  to 
have  been  bathed  in  the  Britannic  fluid,  wittily  de 
scribed  by  a  late  French  writer,  by  the  impossibility 
she  experienced  of  accommodating  herself  to  the  in 
decorums  of  the  scene.  We  ladies  were  to  sleep  in 
the  bar-room,  from  which  its  drinking  visitors  could 
be  ejected  only  at  a  late  hour.  The  outer  door  had 
no  fastening  to  prevent  their  return.  However,  our 
host  kindly  requested  we  would  call  him,  if  they  did, 
as  he  had  "  conquered  them  for  us,"  and  would  do 
so  again.  We  had  also  rather  hard  couches  ;  (mine 
was  the  supper  table,)  but  we  yankees,  born  to  rove, 
were  altogether  too  much  fatigued  to  stand  upon 
trifles,  and  slept  as  sweetly  as  we  would  in  the 
"  bigly  bower  "  of  any  baroness.  But  I  think  England 
sat  up  all  night,  wrapped  in  her  blanket  shawl,  and 
with  a  neat  lace  cap  upon  her  head  ;  so  that  she 
would  have  looked  perfectly  the  lady,  if  any  one  had 
come  in  ;  shuddering  and  listening.  I  know  that  she 
was  very  ill  next  day,  in  requital.  She  watched,  as 
her  parent  country  watches  the  seas,  that  nobody 
may  do  wrong  in  any  case,  and  deserved  to  have  met 
some  interruption,  she  was  so  well  prepared.  How 
ever,  there  was  none,  other  than  from  the  nearness 
of  some  twenty  sets  of  powerful  lungs,  which  would 
not  leave  the  night  to  a  deadly  stillness.  In  this 
house  we  had,  if  not  good  beds,  yet  good  tea,  good 
bread,  and  wild  strawberries,  and  were  entertained 
4* 


42  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

with  most  free  communications  of  opinion  and  his 
tory  from  our  hosts.  Neither  shall  any  of  us  have  a 
right  to  say  again  that  we  cannot  find  any  who  may 
be  willing  to  hear  all  we  may  have  to  say.  "  A 's 
fish  that  comes  to  the  net,"  should  be  painted  on  the 
sign  at  Papaw  grove. 


CHAPTER  IIL 


IN  the  afternoon  of  this  day  we  reached  the  Rock 
river,  in  whose  neighborhood  we  proposed  to  make 
some  stay,  and  crossed  at  Dixon's  ferry. 

This  beautiful"  stream  flows  full  and  wide  over  a 
bed  of  rocks,  traversing  a  distance  of  near  two  hun 
dred  miles,  to  reach  the  Mississippi.  Great  part  of 
the  country  along  its  banks  is  the  finest  region  of 
Illinois,  and  the  scene  of  some  of  the  latest  romance 
of  Indian  warfare.  To  these  beautiful  regions  Black 
Hawk  returned  with  his  band  "  to  pass  the  summer," 
when  he  drew  upon. himself  the  warfare  in  which,  he 
was  finally  vanquished.  No  wonder  he  could  not 
resist  the  longing,  unwise  though  its  indulgence 
might  be,  to  return  in  summer  to  this  home  of 
beauty. 

Of  Illinois,  in  general,  it  has  often  been  remarked 
that  it  bears  the  character  of  country  which  has 
been  inhabited  by  a  nation  skilled  like  the  English  in 
all  the  ornamental  arts  of  life,  especially  in  landscape 
gardening.  That  the  villas  and  castles  seem  to  have 
been  burnt,  the  enclosures  taken  down,  but  the  vel- 


44  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

vet  lawns,  the  flower  gardens,  the  stately  parks,  scat 
tered  at  graceful  intervals  by  the  decorous  hand  of 
art,  the  frequent  deer,  and  the  peaceful  herd  of  cat 
tle  that  make  picture  of  the  plain,  all  suggest  more 
of  the  masterly  mind  of  man,  than  the  prodigal,  but 
careless,  motherly  love  of  nature.  Especially  is  this 
true  of  the  Rock  river  country.  The  river  flows 
sometimes  through  these  parks  and  lawns,  then  be 
twixt  high  bluffs,  whose  grassy  ridges  are  covered 
with  fine  trees,  or  broken  with  crumbling  stone, 
that  easily  assumes  the  forms  of  buttress,  arch  and 
clustered  columns.  Along  the  face  of  such  crumbling 
rocks,  swallows'  nests  are  clustered,  thick  as  cities, 
and  eagles  and  deer  do  not  disdain  their  summits. 
One  morning,  out  in  the  boat  along  the  base  of 
these  rocks,  it  was  amusing,  and  affecting  too,  to  see 
these  swallows  put  their  heads  out  to  look  at  us. 
There  was  something  very  hospitable  about  it,  as  if 
man  had  never  shown  himself  a  tyrant  near  them. 
What  a  morning  that  was  !  Every  sight  is  worth 
twice  as  much  by  the  early  morning  light.  We 
borrow  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  hour  to  look 
upon  them. 

The  first  place  where  we  stopped  was  one  of  sin 
gular  beauty,  a  beauty  of  soft,  luxuriant  wildness. 
It  was  on  the  bend  of  the  river,  a  place  chosen  by  an 
Irish  gentleman,  whose  absenteeship  seems  of  the 
wisest  kind,  since  for  a  sum  which  would  have  been 
but  a  drop  of  water  to  the  thirsty  fever  of  his  native 
land,  he  commands  a  residence  which  has  all  that  is 
desirable,  in  its  independence,  its  beautiful  retire 
ment,  and  means  of  benefit  to  others. 


ROCK    RIVER.  45 

His  park,  his  deer-chase,  he  found  already  pre 
pared  ;  he  had  only  to  make  an  avenue  through  it. 
This  brought  us  by  a  drive,  which  in  the  heat  of  noon 
seemed  long,  though  afterwards,  in  the  cool  of  morn 
ing  and  evening,  delightful,  to  the  house.  This  is, 
for  that  part  of  the  world,  a  large  and  commodious 
dwelling.  Near  it  stands  the  log-cabin  where  its 
master  lived  while  it  was  building,  a  very  ornamental 
accessory. 

In  front  of  the  house  was  a  lawn,  adorned  by  the 
most  graceful  trees.  A  few  of  these  had  been  taken 
out  to  give  a  full  view  of  the  river,  gliding  through ; 
banks  such  as  I  have  described.  On  this  bend  the 
bank  is  high  and  bold,  so  from  the  house  or  the 
lawn  the  view  was  very  rich  and  commanding. 
But  if  you  descended  a  ravine  at  the  side  to  the 
water's  edge,  you  found  there  a  long  walk  on  the 
narrow  shore,  with  a  wall  above  of  the  richest  hang 
ing  wood,  in  which  they  said  the  deer  lay  hid.  I 
never  saw  one,  but  often  fancied  that  I  heard  them 
rustling,  at  daybreak,  by  these  bright  clear  waters, 
stretching  out  in  such  smiling  promise,  where  no 
sound  broke  the  deep  and  blissful  seclusion,  unless 
now  and  then  this  rustling,  or  the  plash  of  some  fish 
a  little  gayer  than  the  others  ;  it  seemed  not  neces 
sary  to  .have  any  better  heaven,  or  fuller  expression 
of  love  and  freedom  than  in  the  mood  of  nature  here. 

Then,  leaving  the  bank,  you  would  walk  far  and 
far  through  long  grassy  paths,  full  of  the  most  bril 
liant,  also  the  most  delicate  flowers.  The  brilliant 
are  more  common  on  the  prairie,  but  both  kinds 
loved  this  place. 


46  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Amid  the  grass  of  the  lawn,  with  a  profusion  of 
wild  strawberries,  we  greeted  also  a  familiar  love,  the 
Scottish  harebell,  the  gentlest,  and  most  touching 
form  of  the  flower-world. 

The  master  of  the  house  was  absent,  but  with  a 
kindness  beyond  thanks  had  offered  us  a  resting 
place  there.  Here  we  were  taken  care  of  by  a 
deputy,  who  would,  for  his  youth,  have  been  as 
signed  the  place  of  a  page  in  former  times,  but  in  the 
young  west,  it  seems  he  was  old  enough  for  a  stew 
ard.  Whatever  be  called  his  function,  he  did  the 
honors  of  the  place  so  much  in  harmony  with  it,  as 
to  leave  the  guests  free  to  imagine  themselves  in 
Elysium.  And  the  three  days  passed  here  were  days 
of  unalloyed,  spotless  happiness. 

There  was  a  peculiar  charm  in  coming  here,  where 
the  choice  of  location,  and  the  unobtrusive  good  taste 
of  all  the  arrangements,  showed  such  intelligent  ap 
preciation  of  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  after  seeing  so 
many  dwellings  of  the  new  settlers,  which  showed 
plainly  that  they  had  no  thought  beyond  satisfying 
the  grossest  material  wants.  Sometimes  they  looked 
attractive,  the  little  brown  houses,  the  natural  arch 
itecture  of  the  country,  in  the  edge  of  the  timber. 
But  almost  always  when  you  came  near,  the  sloven 
liness  of  the  dwelling  and  the  rude  way  in  which 
objects  around  it  were  treated,  when  so  little  care 
would  have  presented  a  charming  whole,  were  very 
repulsive.  Seeing  the  traces  of  the  Indians,  who 
chose  the  most  beautiful  sites  for  their  dwellings,  and 
whose  habits  do  not  break  in  on  that  aspect  of  na 
ture  under  which  they  were  born,  we  feel  as  if  they 


ROCK    RIVER.  47 

were  the  rightful  lords  of  a  beauty  they  forbore  to 
deform.  But  most  of  these  settlers  do  not  see  it  at 
all ;  it  breathes,  it  speaks  in  vain  to  those  who  are 
rushing  into  its  sphere.  Their  progress  is  Gothic, 
not  Roman,  and  their  mode  of  cultivation  will,  in 
the  course  of  twenty,  perhaps  ten,  years,  obliterate 
the  natural  expression  of  the  country. 

This  is  inevitable,  fatal ;  we  must  not  complain,  but 
look  forward  to  a  good  result.  Still,  in  travelling 
through  this  country,  I  could  not  but  be  struck  with 
the  force  of  a  symbol.  Wherever  the  hog  comes, 
the  rattlesnake  disappears ;  the  omnivorous  traveller, 
safe  in  its  stupidity,  willingly  and  easily  makes  a 
meal  of  the  most  dangerous  of  reptiles,  and  one 
whom  the  Indian  looks  on  with  a  mystic  awe.  Even 
so  the  white  settler  pursues  the  Indian,  and  is  victor 
in  the  chase.  But  I  shall  say  more  upon  the  subject 
by-and-by. 

While  we  were  here  we  had  one  grand  thunder 
storm,  which  added  new  glory  to  the  scene. 

One  beautiful  feature  was  the  return  of  the  pigeons 
every  afternoon  to  their  home.  Every  afternoon 
they  came  sweeping  across  the  lawn,  positively  in 
clouds,  and  with  a  swiftness  and  softness  of  winged 
motion,  more  beautiful  than  anything  of  the  kind 
I  ever  knew.  Had  I  been  a  musician,  such  as 
Mendelsohn,  I  felt  that  I  could  have  improvised  a 
music  quite  peculiar,  from  the  sound  they  made, 
which  should  have  indicated  all  the  beauty  over 
which  their  wings  bore  them.  I  will  here  insert  a 
few  lines  left  at  this  house,  on  parting,  which  feebly 
indicate  some  of  the  features. 


48  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Familiar  to  the  childish  mind  were  tales 

Of  rock-girt  isles  amid  a  desert  sea, 
Where  unexpected  stretch  the  flowery  vales 

To  soothe  the  shipwrecked  sailor's  misery. 
Fainting,  he  lay  upon  a  sandy  shore, 
And  fancied  that  all  hope  of  life  was  o'er  ; 
But  let  him  patient  climb  the  frowning  wall, 
Within,  the  orange  glows  beneath  the  palm  tree  tall, 
And  all  that  Eden  boasted  waits  his  call. 

Almost  these  tales  seem  realized  to-day, 
When  the  long  dullness  of  the  sultry  way, 
Where  "  independent"  settlers'  careless  cheer 
Made  us  indeed  feel  we  were  "  strangers"  here, 
Is  cheered  by  sudden  sight  of  this  fair  spot, 
On  which  "  improvement"  yet  has  made  no  blot, 
But  Nature  all-astonished  stands,  to  find 
Her  plan  protected  by  the  human  mind. 

Blest  be  the  kindly  genius  of  the  scene  ; 

The  river,  bending  in  unbroken  grace, 
The  stately  thickets,  with  their  pathways  green, 

Fair  lonely  trees,  each  in  its  fittest  place. 
Those  thickets  haunted  by  the  deer  and  fawn  ; 
Those  cloudlike  flights  of  birds  across  the  lawn; 
The  gentlest  breezes  here  delight  to  blow, 
And  sun  and  shower  and  star  are  emulous  to  deck  the 
show. 

Wondering,  as  Crusoe,  we  survey  the  land ; 
Happier  than  Crusoe  we,  a  friendly  band  ; 
Blest  be  the  hand  that  reared  this  friendly  home, 
The  heart  and  mind  of  him  to  whom  we  owe 
Hours  of  pure  peace  such  as  few  mortals  know  ; 
May  he  find  such,  should  he  be  led  to  roam  ; 


OREGON.  49 

Be  tended  by  such  ministering  sprites  — 

Enjoy  such  gaily  childish  days,  such  hopeful  nights! 

And  yet,  amid  the  goods  to  mortals  given, 

To  give,  those  goods  again  is  most  like  heaven. 

Hazelwood,  Rock  Rivfer,  June  30th,  1843, 

The  only  really  rustic  feature  was  of  the  many 
coops  of  poultry  near  the  house,  which  I  understood 
it  to  be  one  of  the  chief  pleasures  of  the  master  to 
feed. 

Leaving  this  place,  we  proceeded  a  day's  journey 
along  the  beautiful  stream,  to  a  little  town  named 
Oregon.  We  called  at  a  cabin,  from  whose  door 
looked  out  one  of  those  faces  which,  once  seen,  are 
never  forgotten ;  young,  yet  touched  with  many 
traces  of  ieeling,  not  only  possible,,  but  endured  ; 
spirited,  too,  like  the  gleam  of  a  finely  tempered 
blade.  It  was  a  face  that  suggested  a  history,  and 
many  histories,  but  whose  scene  would  have  been  in 
courts  and  camps.  At  this  moment  their  circles  are 
dull  for  want  of  that  .life  which  is  waning  unexcited 
in  this  solitary  recess.  .'.^ 

The  master  of  the  house  proposed  to  show  us  a 
"  short  cut,"  by  which  we  might,  to  especial  advan 
tage,  pursue  our  journey.  This  proved  to  be  almost 
perpendicular  down  a  hill,  studded  with  young  trees 
and  stumps.  From  these  he  proposed,  with  a  hospi 
tality  of  service  worthy  an  Oriental,  to  free  our  wheels 
whenever  they  should  get  entangled,  also,  to  be 
himself  the  drag,  to  prevent  our  too  rapid  descent. 
Such  generosity  deserved  trust ;  however,  we  women 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  render  it.  We  got  out 
5 


50  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

and  admired,  from  afar,  the  process.  Left  by  our 
guide  —  and  prop!  we  found  ourselves  in  a  wide 
field,  where,  by  playful  quips  and  turns,  an  end 
less  "creek,"  seemed  to  divert  itself  with  our  at 
tempts  to  cross  it.  Failing  in  this,  the  next  best  was 
to  whirl  down  a  steep  bank,  which  feat  our  charioteer 
performed  with  an  air  not  unlike  that  of  Rhesus,  had 
he  but  been  as  suitably  furnished  with  chariot  and 
steeds ! 

At  last,  after  wasting  some  two  or  three  hours  on 
the  "  short  cut,"  we  got  out  by  following  an  Indian 
trail,  —  Black  Hawk's  !  How  fair  the  scene  through 
which  it  led  !  How  could  they  let  themselves  be 
conquered,  with  such  a  country  to  fight  for ! 

Afterwards,  in  the  wide  prairie,  we  saw  a  lively 
picture  of  nonchalance,  (to  speak  in  the  fashion  of 
dear  Ireland.)  There,  in  the  wide  sunny  field,  with 
neither  tree  nor  umbrella  above  his  head,  sat  a  ped- 
ler,  with  his  pack,  waiting  apparently  for  customers. 
He  was  not  disappointed.  We  bought,  what  hold  in 
regard  to  the  human  world,  as  unmarked,  as  mysteri 
ous,  and  as  important  an  existence,  as  the  infusoria 
to  the  natural,  to  wit,  pins.  This  incident  would 
have  delighted  those  modern  sages,  who,  in  imitation 
of  the  sitting  philosophers  of  ancient  Ind,  prefer 
silence  to  speech,  waiting  to  going,  and  scornfully 
smile  in  answer  to  the  motions  of  earnest  life, 

"  Of  itself  will  nothing  come, 
That  ye  must  still  be  seeking  ?  " 

However,  it  seemed  to  me  to-day,  as  formerly  on 
these  sublime  occasions,  obvious  that  nothing  would 


OREGON.  51 

come,  unless  something  would  go  ;  now,  if  we  had 
been  as  sublimely  still  as  the  pedler,  his  pins  would 
have  tarried  in  the  pack,  and  his  pockets  sustained 
an  aching  void  of  pence ! 

Passing  through  one  of  the  fine,  park-like  woods, 
almost  clear  from  underbrush  and  carpeted  with 
thick  grasses  and  flowers,  we  met,  (for  it  was  Sun 
day,)  a  little  congregation  just  returning  from  their 
service,  which  had  been  performed  in  a  rude  house 
in  its  midst.  It  had  a  sweet  and  peaceful  air,  as  if 
such  words  and  thoughts  were  very  dear  to  them. 
The  parents  had  with  them  all  their  little  children ; 
but  we  saw  no  old  people  ;  that  charm  was  wanting, 
which  exists  in  such  scenes  in  older  settlements,  of 
seeing  the  silver  bent  in  reverence  beside  the  flaxen 
head. 

At  Oregon,  the  beauty  of  the  scene  was  of  even 
a  more  sumptuous  character  than  at  our  former 
"  stopping  place."  Here  swelled  the  river  in  its 
boldest  course,  interspersed  by  halcyon  isles  on  which 
nature  had  lavished  all  her  prodigality  in  tree,  vine, 
and  flower,  banked  by  noble  bluffs,  three  hundred 
feet  high,  their  sharp  ridges  as  exquisitely  definite  as 
the  edge  of  a  shell ;  their  summits  adorned  with 
those  same  beautiful  trees,  and  with  buttresses  of  rich 
rock,  crested  with  old  hemlocks,  which  wore  a  touch 
ing  and  antique  grace  amid  the  softer  and  more  lux 
uriant  vegetation.  Lofty  natural  mounds  rose  amidst 
the  rest,  with  the  same  lovely  and  sweeping  outline, 
showing  everywhere  the  plastic  power  of  water, — 
water,  mother  of  beauty,  which,  by  its  sweet  and 
eager  flow,  had  left  such  lineaments  as  human  genius 
never  dreamt  of. 


52  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Not  far  from  the  river  was  a  high  crag,  called  the 
Pine  Rock,  which  looks  out,  as  our  guide  observed, 
like  a  helmet  above  the  brow  of  the  country.  It 
seems  as  if  the  water  left  here  and  there  a  vestige  of 
forms  and  materials  that  preceded  its  course,  just  to 
set  off  its  new  and  richer  designs. 

The  aspect  of  this  country  was  to  me  enchanting, 
beyond  any  I  have  ever  seen,  from  its  fullness  of  ex 
pression,  its  bold  and  impassioned  sweetness.  Here 
the  flood  of  emotion  has  passed  over  and  marked 
everywhere  its  course  by  a  smile.  The  fragments  of 
rock  touch  it  with  a  wildness  and  liberality  which 
give  just  the  needed  relief.  I  should  never  be  tired 
here,  though  I  have  elsewhere  seen  country  of  more 
secret  and  alluring  charms,  better  calculated  to  stim 
ulate  and  suggest.  Here  the  eye  and  heart  are  filled. 

How  happy  the  Indians  must  have  been  here !  It 
is  not  long  since  they  were  driven  away,  and  the 
ground,  above  and  below,  is  full  of  their  traces. 

"The  earth  is  full  of  men . " 

You  have  only  to  turn  up  the  sod  to  find  arrow 
heads  and  Indian  pottery.  On  an  island,  belonging 
to  our  host,  and  nearly  opposite  his  house,  they  loved 
to  stay,  and,  no  doubt,  enjoyed  its  lavish  beauty  as 
much  as  the  myriad  wild  pigeons  that  now  haunt  its 
flower-filled  shades.  Here  are  still  the  marks  of  their 
tomahawks,  the  troughs  in  which  they  prepared  their 
corn,  their  caches. 

A  little  way  down  the  river  is  the  site  of  an  ancient 
Indian  village,  with  its  regularly  arranged  mounds. 
As  usual,  they  had  chosen  with  the  finest  taste.  It 


ANCIENT    INDIAN    VILLAGE.  53 

was  one  of  those  soft  shadowy  afternoons  when  we 
went  there,  when  nature  seems  ready  to  weep,  not 
from  grief,  but  from  an  overfull  heart.  Two  prat 
tling,  lovely  little  girls,  and  an  African  boy,  with  glit 
tering  eye  and  ready  grin,  made  our  party  gay  ;  but 
all  were  still  as  we  entered  their  little  inlet  and  trod 
those  flowery  paths.  They  may  blacken  Indian  life 
as  they  will,  talk  of  its  dirt,  its  brutality,  I  will  ever 
believe  that  the  men  who  chose  that  dwelling-place 
were  able  to  feel  emotions  of  noble  happiness  as  they 
returned  to  it,  and  so  were  the  women  that  received 
them.  Neither  were  the  children  sad  or  dull,  who 
lived  so  familiarly  with  the  deer  and  the  birds,  and 
swam  that  clear  wave  in  the  shadow  of  the  Seven 
Sisters.  The  whole  scene  suggested  to  me  a  Greek 
splendor,  a  Greek  sweetness,  and  I  can  believe  that 
an  Indian  brave,  accustomed  to  ramble  in  such  paths, 
and  be  bathed  by  such  sunbeams,  might  be  mistaken 
for  Apollo,  as  Apollo  was  for  him  by  West.  Two  of 
the  boldest  bluffs  are  called  the  Deer's  Walk,  (not  be 
cause  deer  do  not  walk  there,)  and  the  Eagle's  Nest. 
The  latter  I  visited  one  glorious  morning;  it  was 
that  of  the  fourth  of  July,  and  certainly  I  think  I  had 
never  felt  so  happy  that  I  was  born  in  America.  Wo 
to  all  country  folks  that  never  saw  this  spot,  never 
swept  an  enraptured  gaze  over  the  prospect  that 
stretched  beneath.  I  do  believe  Rome  and  Florence 
are  suburbs  compared  to  this  capital  of  nature's  art. 

The  bluff  was  decked  with  great  bunches  of  a 

scarlet  variety  of  the  milkweed,  like  cut  coral,  and 

all   starred  with  a  mysterious-looking   dark   flower, 

whose  cup  rose  lonely  on  a  tall  stem.     This  had,  for 

5* 


54  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

two  or  three  days,  disputed  the  ground  with  the  lu 
pine  and  phlox.  My  companions  disliked,  I  liked  it. 
Here  I  thought  of,  or  rather  saw,  what  the  Greek 
expresses  under  the  form  of  Jove's  darling,  Gany 
mede,  and  the  following  stanzas  took  form. 

GANYMEDE  TO  HIS  EAGLE, 

SUGGESTED    BY   A   WOEK   OF   THORWALDSEN'3. 

Composed  on  the  height  called  the  Eagle's  Nest,  Oregon,  Rock  River, 
July  4th,  1843. 

Upon  the  rocky  mountain  stood  the  boy, 

A  goblet  of  pure  water  in  his  hand, 
His  face  and  form  spoke  him  one  made  for  joy, 

A  willing  servant  to  sweet  love's  command, 
But  a  strange  pain  was  written  on  his  brow, 
And  thrilled  throughout  his  silver  accents  now  — 

"  My  bird,"  he  cries,  "  my  destined  brother  friend, 

O  whrther  fleets  to-day  thy  wayward  flight? 
Hast  thou  forgotten  that  I  here  attend,    !'•• ' 

From  the  full  noon  until  this  sad  twilight  ? 
A  hundred  times,  at  least,  from  the  clear  spring, 

Since  the  full  noon  o'er  hill  and  valley  glowed, 
I  've  filled  the  vase  which  our  Olympian  king 

Upon  my  care  for  thy  sole  use  bestowed  ; 
That  at  the  moment  when  thou  should'st  descend, 
A  pure  refreshment  might  thy  thirst  attend. 

Hast  thou  forgotten  earth,  forgotten  me, 

Thy  fellow  bondsman  in  a  royal  cause, 
Who,  from  the  sadness  of  infinity, 

Only  with  thee  can  know  that  peaceful  pause 
In  which  we  catch  the  flowing  strain  of  love, 
Which  binds  our  dim  fates  to  the  throne  of  Jove  ? 


GANYMEDE.  55 

Before  I  saw  thee,  I  was  like  the  May, 

Longing  for  summer  that  must  mar  its  bloom, 
Or  like  the  morning  star  that  calls  the  day, 

Whose  glories  to  its  promise  are  the  tomb; 
And  as  the  eager  fountain  rises  higher 

To  throw  itself  more  strongly  back  to  earth, 
Still,  as  more  sweet  and  full  rose  my  desire, 

More  fondly  it  reverted  to  its  birth, 
For,  what  the  rosebud  seeks  tells  not  the  rose, 
The  meaning  foretold  by  the  boy  the  man  cannot  disclose. 

I  was  all  Spring,  for  in  my  being  dwelt 
Eternal  youth,  where  flowers  are  the  fruit, 

Full  feeling  was  the  thought  of  what  was  felt, 
Its  music  was  the  meaning  of  the  lute  : 

o  " 

But  heaven  and  earth  such  life  will  still  deny, 
For  earth,  divorced  from  heaven,  still  asks  the  question 
Why? 

Upon  the  highest  mountains  my  young  feet 

Ached,  that  no  pinions  from  their  lightness  grew, 
My  starlike  eyes  the  stars  would  fondly  greet, 

Yet  win  no  greeting  from  the  circling  blue ; 
F.air,  self-subsistent  each  in  its  own  sphere, 

They  had  no  care  that  there  was  none  for  me; 
Alike  to  them  that  I  was  far  or  near, 

Alike  to  them,  time  and  eternity. 

But,  from  the  violet  of  lower  air, 

Sometimes  an  answer  to  my  wishing  came, 
Those  lightning  births  my  nature  seemed  to  share, 

They  told  the  secrets  of  its  fiery  frame, 
The  sudden  messengers  of  hate  and  love, 
The  thunderbolts  that  arm  the  hand  of  Jove, 
And  strike  sometimes  the  sacred  spire,  and  strike  the 
sacred  grove. 


56  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Come  in  a  moment,  in  a  moment  gone, 
They  answered  me,  then  left  me  still  more  lone, 
They  told  me  that  the  thought  which  ruled  the  world, 
As  yet  no  sail  upon  its  course  had  furled, 
That  the  creation  was  but  just  begun, 
New  leaves  still  leaving  from  the  primal  one, 
But  spoke  not  of  the  goal  to  which  my  rapid  wheels 
would  run. 

Still,  still  my  eyes,  though  tearfully,  I  strained 
To  the  far  future  which  my  heart  contained, 
And  no  dull  doubt  my  proper  hope  profaned. 

At  last,  O  bliss,  thy  living  form  I  spied, 

Then  a  mere  speck  upon  a  distant  sky, 
Yet  my  keen  glance  discerned  its  noble  pride, 

And  the  full  answer  of  that  sun-filled  eye ; 
I  knew  it  was  the  wing  that  must  upbear 
My  earthlier  form  into  the  realms  of  air. 

Thou  knowest  how  we  gained  that  beauteous  height, 

Where  dwells  the  monarch  of  the  sons  of  light, 

Thou  knowest  he  declared  us  two  to  be 

The  chosen  servants  of  his  ministry, 

Thou  as  his  messenger,  a  sacred  sign 

Of  conquest,  or  with  omen  more  benign, 

To  give  its  due  weight  to  the  righteous  cause, 

To  express  the  verdict  of  Olympian  laws. 

And  I  to  wait  upon  the  lonely  spring, 

Which  slakes  the  thirst  of  bards  to  whom  'tis  given 
The  destined  dues  of  hopes  divine  to  sing, 

And  weave  the  needed  chain  to  bind  to  heaven. 
Only  from  such  could  be  obtained  a  draught 
For  him  who  in  his  early  home  from  Jove's  own  cup  has 
quaffed. 


GANYMEDE. 


57 


To  wait,  to  wait,  but  not  to  wait  too  long, 

Till  heavy  grows  the  burthen  of  a  song ; 

O  bird !  too  long  hast  thou  been  gone  to-day, 

My  feet  are  weary  of  their  frequent  way, 

The  spell  that  opes  the  spring  my  tongue  no  more  can  say. 

If  soon  thou  com'st  not,  night  will  fall  around, 
My  head  with  a  sad  slumber  will  be  bound, 
And  the  pure  draught  be  spilt  upon  the  ground. 

Remember  that  I  am  riot  yet  divine, 
Long  years  of  service  to  the  fatal  Nine 
Are  yet  to  make  a  Delphian  vigor  mine. 

O,  make  them  not  too  hard,  thou  bird  of  Jove, 
Answer  the  stripling's  hope,  confirm  his  love, 
Receive  the  service  in  which  he  delights, 
And  bear  him  often  to  the  serene  heights, 
Where  hands  that  were  so  prompt  in  serving  thee, 
Shall  be  allowed  the  highest  ministry, 
And  Rapture  live  with  bright  Fidelity. 

The  afternoon  was  spent  in  a  very  different  man 
ner.  The  family,  whose  guests  we  were^  possessed 
a  gay  and  graceful  hospitality  that  gave  zest  to  each 
moment.  They  possessed  that  rare  politeness  which, 
while  fertile  in  pleasant  expedients  to  vary  the  enjoy 
ment  of  a  friend,  leaves  him  perfectly  free  the  mo 
ment  he  wishes  to  be  so.  With  such  hosts,  pleas 
ure  may  be  combined  with  repose.  They  lived  on 
the  bank  opposite  the  town,  and,  as  their  house  was 
full,  we  slept  in  the  town,  and  passed  three  days 
with  them,  passing  to  and  fro  morning  and  evening 
in  their  boats.  (To  one  of  these,  called  the  Fairy, 
in  which  a  sweet  little  daughter  of  the  house  moved 


58  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

about  lighter  than  any  Scotch  Ellen  ever  sung,  I  should 
indite  a  poem,  if  I  had  not  been  guilty  of  rhyme  on 
the  very  last  page.)  At  morning  this  was  very  pleas 
ant  ;  at  evening,  I  confess  I  was  generally  too  tired 
with  the  excitements  of  the  day  to  think  it  so. 

Their  house  —  a  double  log  cabin  —  was,  to  my 
eye,  the  model  of  a  Western  villa.  Nature  had  laid 
out  before  it  grounds  which  could  not  be  improved. 
Within,  female  taste  had  veiled  every  rudeness  — 
availed  itself  of  every  sylvan  grace. 

In  this  charming  abode  what  laughter,  what  sweet 
thoughts,  what  pleasing  fancies,  did  we  not  enjoy  ! 
May  such  never  desert  those  who  reared  it  and  made 
us  so  kindly  welcome  to  all  its  pleasures  ! 

Fragments  of  city  life  were  dexterously  crumbled 
into  the  dish  prepared  for  general  entertainment. 
Ice  creams  followed  the  dinner  drawn  by  the  gentle 
men  from  the  river,  and  music  and  fireworks  wound 
up  the  evening  of  days  spent  on  the  Eagle's  Nest. 
Now  they  had  prepared  a  little  fleet  to  pass  over 
to  the  Fourth  of  July  celebration,  which  some  queer 
drumming  and  fifing,  from  the  opposite  bank,  had  an 
nounced  to  be  "  on  hand." 

We  found  the  free  and  independent  citizens  there 
collected  beneath  the  trees,  among  whom  many  a 
round  Irish  visage  dimpled  at  the  usual  puffs  of 
Ameriky. 

The  orator  was  a  New  Englander,  and  the  speech 
smacked  loudly  of  Boston,  but  was  received  with 
much  applause,  and  followed  by  a  plentiful  dinner, 
provided  by  and  for  the  Sovereign  People,  to  which 
Hail  Columbia  served  as  grace. 


OREGON.  59 

Returning,  the  gay  flotilla  hailed  the  little  flag 
which  the  children  had  raised  from  a  log-cabin,  pret 
tier  than  any  president  ever  saw,  and  drank  the 
health  of  their  country  and  all  mankind,  with  a  clear 
conscience. 

Dance  and  song  wound  up  the  day.  I  know  not 
when  the  mere  local  habitation  has  seemed  to  me  to 
afford  so  fair  a  chance  of  happiness  as  this.  To  a 
person  of  unspoiled  tastes,  the  beauty  alone  would 
afford  stimulus  enough.  But  with  it  would  be  nat 
urally  associated  all  kinds  of  wild  sports,  experiments, 
and  the  studies  of  natural  history.  In  these  regards, 
the  poet,  the  sportsman,  the  naturalist,  would  alike 
rejoice  in  this  wide  range  of  untouched  loveliness. 

Then,  with  a  very  little  money,  a  ducal  estate  may 
be  purchased,  and  by  a  very  little  more,  and  moder 
ate  labor,  a  family  be  maintained  upon  it  with  rai 
ment,  food  and  shelter.  The  luxurious  and  minute 
comforts  of  a  city  life  are  not  yet  to  be  had  without 
effort  disproportionate  to  their  value.  But,  where 
there  is  so  great  a  counterpoise,  cannot  these  be  given 
up  once  for  all  ?  If  the  houses  are  imperfectly  built, 
they  can  afford  immense  fires  and  plenty  of  cover 
ing  ;  if  they  are  small,  who  cares  ?  —  with  such 
fields  to  roam  in.  In  winter,  it  may  be  borne  ;  in 
summer,  is  of  no  consequence.  With  plenty  of  fish, 
and  game,  and  wheat,  can  they  not  dispense  with 
a  baker  to  bring  "  muffins  hot "  every  morning  to  the 
door  for  their  breakfast  ? 

Here  a  man  need  not  take  a  small  slice  from  the 
landscape,  and  fence  it  in  from  the  obtrusions  of  an 
uncongenial  neighbor,  and  there  cut  down  his  fancies 


60  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

to  miniature  improvements  which  a  chicken  could 
run  over  in  ten  minutes.  '  He  may  have  water  and 
wood  and  land  enough,  to  dread  no  incursions  on  his 
prospect  from  some  chance  Vandal  that  may  enter 
his  neighborhood.  He  need  not  painfully  economise 
and  manage  how  he  may  use  it  all ;  he  can  afford  to 
leave  some  of  it  wild,  and  to  carry  out  his  own  plans 
without  obliterating  those  of  nature. 

Here,  whole  families  might  live  together,  if  they 
would.  The  sons  might  return  from  their  pilgrim 
ages  to  settle  near  the  parent  hearth  ;  the  daughters 
might  find  room  near  their  mother.  Those  painful 
separations,  which  already  desecrate  and  desolate  the 
Atlantic  coast,  are  not  enforced  here  by  the  stern 
need  of  seeking  bread  ;  and  where  they  are  volun 
tary,  it  is  no  matter.  To  me,  too,  .used  to  the  feel 
ings  which  haunt  a  society  of  struggling  men,  it  was 
delightful  to  look  upon  a  scene  where  nature  still 
wore  her  motherly  smile  and  seemed  to  promise  room 
not  only  for  those  favored  or  cursed  with  the  qualities 
b«st  adapting  for  the  strifes  of  competition,  but  for 
the  delicate,  the  thoughtful,  even  the  indolent  or  ec 
centric.  She  did  not  say,  Fight  or  starve  ;  nor  even, 
Work  or  cease  to  exist ;  but,  merely  showing  that  the 
apple  was  a  finer  fruit  than  the  wild  crab,  gave  both 
room  to  grow,  in  the  garden. 

A  pleasant  society  is  formed  of  the  families  who 
live  along  the  banks  of  this  stream  upon  farms. 
They  are  from  various  parts  of  the  world,  and  have 
much  to  communicate  to  one  another..  Many  have 
cultivated  minds  and  refined  manners,  all  a  varied 
experience,  while  they  have  in  common  the  interests 


WOMEN    IN    THE    WEST.  61 

of  a  new  country  and  a  new  life.  They  must  trav 
erse  some  space  to  get  at  one  another,  but  the  journey 
is  through  scenes  that  make  it  a  separate  pleasure. 
They  must  bear  inconveniences  to  stay  in  one  an 
other's  houses  ;  but  these,  to  the  well-disposed,  are 
only  a  source  of  amusement  and  adventure. 

The  great  drawback  upon  the  lives  of  these  set 
tlers,  at  present,  is  the  unfitness  of  the  women  for 
their  new  lot.  It  has  generally  been  the  choice  of 
the  men,  and  the  women  follow,  as  women  will,  doing 
their  best  for  affection's  sake,  but  too  often  in  heart- 
sickness  and  weariness.  Beside  it  frequently  not  be 
ing  a  choice  or  conviction  of  their  own  minds  that 
it  is  best  to  be  here,  their  part  is  the  hardest,  and 
they  are  least  fitted  for  it.  The  men  can  find  assist 
ance  in  field  labor,  and  recreation  with  the  gun  and 
fishing-rod.  Their  bodily  strength  is  greater,  and 
enables  ihem  to  bear  and  enjoy  both  these  forms  of 
life. 

The  women  can  rarely  find  any  aid  in  domestic 
labor.  All  its  various  and  careful  tasks  must  often 
be  performed,  sick  or  well,  by  the  mother  and  daugh 
ters,  to  whom  a  city  education  has  imparted  neither 
the  strength  nor  skill  now  demanded. 

The  wives  of  the  poorer  settlers,  having  more  hard 
work  to  do  than  before,  very  frequently  become  slat 
terns  ;  but  the  ladies,  accustomed  to  a  refined  neat 
ness,  feel  that  they  cannot  degrade  themselves  by  its 
absence,  and  struggle  under  every  disadvantage  to 
keep  up  the  necessary  routine  of  small  arrangements. 

With  all  these  disadvantages  for  work,  their  re 
sources  for  pleasure  are  fewer.  When  they  can  leave 
6 


62  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

the  housework,  they  have  not  learnt  to  ride,  to  drive, 
to  row,  alone.  Their  culture  has  too  generally  been 
that  given  to  women  to  make  them  "  the  ornaments  of 
society."  They  can  dance,  but  not  draw  ;  talk  French, 
but  know  nothing  of  the  language  of  flowers  ;  neither 
in  childhood  were  allowed  to  cultivate  them,  lest  they 
should  tan  their  complexions.  Accustomed  to  the 
pavement  of  Broadway,  they  dare  not  tread  the  wild- 
wood  paths  for  fear  of  rattlesnakes  ! 

Seeing  much  of  this  joylessness,  and  inaptitude, 
both  of  body  and  mind,  for  a  lot  which  would  be  full 
of  blessings  for  those  prepared  for  it,  we  could  not 
but  look  with  deep  interest  on  the  little  girls,  and 
hope  they  would  grow  up  with  the  strength  of  body, 
dexterity,  simple  tastes,  and  resources  that  would  fit 
them  to  enjoy  and  refine  the  western  farmer's  life. 

But  they  have  a  great  deal  to  war  with  in  the 
habits  of  thought  acquired  by  their  mothers  from 
their  own  early  life.  Everywhere  the  fatal  spirit  of 
imitation,  of  reference  to  European  standards,  pene 
trates,  and  threatens  to  blight  whatever  of  original 
growth  might  adorn  the  soil. 

If  the  little  girls  grow  up  strong,  resolute,  able  to 
exert  their  faculties,  their  mothers  mourn  over  their 
want  of  fashionable  delicacy.  Are  they  gay,  enter 
prising,  ready  to  fly  about  in  the  various  ways  that 
teach  them  so  much,  these  ladies  lament  that'"  they 
cannot  go  to  school,  where  they  might  learn  to  be 
quiet."  They  lament  the  want  of  "  education  "  for 
their  daughters,  as  if  the  thousand  needs  which  call 
out  their  young  energies,  and  the  language  of  nature 
around,  yielded  no  education. 


EDUCATION.  DeJ 

Their  grand  ambition  for  their  children,  is  to  send 
them  to  school  in  some  eastern  city,  the  measure 
most  likely  to  make  them  useless  and  unhappy  at 
home.  I  earnestly  hope  that,  ere  long,  the  existence 
of  good  schools  near  themselves,  planned  by  persons 
of  sufficient  thought  to  meet  the  wants  of  the  place 
and  time,  instead  of  copying  New  York  or  Boston, 
will  correct  this  mania.  Instruction  the  children 
want  to  enable  them  to  profit  by  the  great  natural 
advantages  of  their  position  ;  but  methods  copied  from 
the  education  of  some  English  Lady  Augusta,  are  as 
ill  suited  to  the  daughter  of  an  Illinois  farmer,  as 
satin  shoes  to  climb  the  Indian  mounds.  An  ele 
gance  she  would  diffuse  around  her,  if  her  mind 
were  opened  to  appreciate  elegance;  it  might  be  of 
a  kind  new,  original,  enchanting,  as  different  from 
that  of  the  city  belle  as  that  of  the  prairie  torch- 
flower  from  the  shopworn  article  that  touches  the 
cheek  of  that  lady  within  her  bonnet. 

To  a  girl  really  skilled  to  make  home  beautiful  and 
comfortable,  with  bodily  strength  to  enjoy  plenty  of 
exercise,  the  woods,  the  streams,  a  few  studies,  mu 
sic,  and  the  sincere  and  familiar  intercourse,  far  more 
easily  to  be  met  here  than  elsewhere,  would  afford 
happiness  enough.  Her  eyes  would  not  grow  dim, 
nor  her  cheeks  sunken,  in  the  absence  of  parties, 
morning  visits,  and  milliner's  shops. 

As  to  music,  I  wish  I  could  see  in  such  places  the 
guitar  rather  than  the  piano,  and  good  vocal  more 
than  instrumental  music. 

The  piano  many  cany  with  them,  because  it  is  the 
fashionable  instrument  in  the  eastern  cities.  Even 


64  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

there,  it  is  so  merely  from  the  habit  of  imitating  Eu 
rope,  for  not  one  in  a  thousand  is  willing  to  give  the 
labor  requisite  to  ensure  any  valuable  use  of  the 
instrument. 

But,  out  here,  where  the  ladies  have  so  much  less 
leisure,  it  is  still  less  desirable.  Add  to  this,  they 
never  know  how  to  tune  their  own  instruments,  and 
as  persons  seldom  visit  them  who  can  do  so,  these 
pianos  are  constantly  out  of  tune,  and  would  spoil 
the  ear  of  one  who  began  by  having  any. 

The  guitar,  or  some  portable  instrument  which 
requires  less  practice,  and  could  be  kept  in  tune  by 
themselves,  would  be  far  more  desirable  for  most  of 
these  ladies.  It  would  give  all  they  want  as  a  house 
hold  companion  to  fill  up  the  gaps  of  life  with  a 
pleasant  stimulus  or  solace,  and  be  sufficient  accom 
paniment  to  the  voice  in  social  meetings. 

Singing  in  parts  is  the  most  delightful  family 
amusement,  and  those  who  are  constantly  together 
can  learn  to  sing  in  perfect  accord.  All  the  practice 
it  needs,  after  some  good  elementary  instruction,  is 
such  as  meetings  by  summer  twilight,  and  evening 
firelight  naturally  suggest.  And,  as  music  is  an 
universal  language,  we  cannot  but  think  a  fine  Italian 
duet  would  be  as  much  at  home  in  the  log  cabin  as 
one  of  Mrs.  Gore's  novels. 

The  sixth  July  we  left  this  beautiful  place.  It 
was  one  of  those  rich  days  of  bright  sunlight,  varied 
by  the  purple  shadows  of  large  sweeping  clouds. 
Many  a  backward  look  we  cast,  and  left  the  heart 
behind. 

Our   journey  to-day  was  no  less  delightful  than 


KISHWAUKIE.  65 

before,  still  all  new,  boundless,  limitless.  Kinmont 
says,  that  limits  are  sacred  ;  that  the  Greeks  were 
in  the  right  to  worship  a  god  of  limits.  I  say,  that 
what  is  limitless  is  alone  divine,  that  there  was  nei 
ther  wall  nor  road  in  Eden,  that  those  who  walked 
there  lost  and  found  their  way  just  as  we  did,  and 
that  all  the  gain  from  the  Fall  was  that  we  had 
a  wagon  to  ride  in.  I  do  not  think,  either,  that 
even  the  horses  doubted  whether  this  last  was  any 
advantage. 

Everywhere  the  rattlesnake-weed  grows  in  profu 
sion.  The  antidote  survives  the  bane.  Soon  the 
coarser  plantain,  the  "  white  man's  footstep,"  shall 
take  its  place. 

We  saw  also  the  compass  plant,  and  the  western 
tea  plant.  Of  some  of  the  brightest  flowers  an 
Indian  girl  afterwards  told  me  the  medicinal  virtues. 
I  doubt  not  those  students  of  the  soil  knew  a  use  to 
every  fair  emblem,  on  which  we  could  only  look  to 
admire  its  hues  and  shape. 

After  noon  we  were  ferried  by  a  girl,  (unfortu 
nately  not  of  the  most  picturesque  appearance)  across 
the  Kishwaukie,  the  most  graceful  stream,  and  on 
whose  bosom  rested  many  full-blown  water-lilies, 
twice  as  large  as  any  of  ours.  I  was  told  that,  en 
revanche,  they  were  scentless,  but  I  still  regret  that 
I  could  not  get  at  one  of  them  to  try. 

Query,  did  the  lilied  fragrance  which,  in  the 
miraculous  times,  accompanied  visions  of  saints  and 
angels,  proceed  from  water  or  garden  lilies  ? 

Kishwaukie  is,  according  to  tradition,  the  scene  of 
a  famous  battle,  and  its  many  grassy  mounds  con- 
6* 


66  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

tain  the  bones  of  the  valiant.  On  these  waved 
thickly  the  mysterious  purple  flower,  of  which  I  have 
spoken  before.  I  think  it  springs  from  the  blood  of 
the  Indians,  as  the  hyacinth  did  from  that  of  Apollo's 
darling. 

The  ladies  of  our  host's  family  at  Oregon,  when 
they  first  went  there,  after  all  the  pains  and  plagues 
of  building  and  settling,  found  their  first  pastime  in 
opening  one  of  these  mounds,  in  which  they  found, 
I  think,  three  of  the  departed,  seated  in  the  Indian 
fashion. 

One  of  these  same  ladies,  as  she  was  making 
bread  one  winter  morning,  saw  from  the  window  a 
deer  directly  before  the  house.  She  ran  out,  with 
her  hands  covered  with  dough,  calling  the  others, 
and  they  caught  him  bodily  before  he  had  time  to 
escape. 

Here  (at  Kishwaukie)  we  received  a  visit  from  a 
ragged  and  barefoot,  but  bright-eyed  gentleman, 
who  seemed  to  be  the  intellectual  loafer,  the  walking 
Will's  coffeehouse  of  the  place.  He  told  us  many 
charming  snake  stories ;  among  others,  of  himself 
having  seen  seventeen  young  ones  reenter  the  mother 
snake,  on  the  intrusion  of  a  visiter. 

This  night  we  reached  Belvidere,  a  flourishing 
town  in  Boon  county,  where  was  the  tomb,  now 
despoiled,  of  Big  Thunder.  In  this  later  day  we  felt 
happy  to  find  a  really  good  hotel. 

From  this  place,  by  two  days  of  very  leisurely  and 
devious  journeying,  we  reached  Chicago,  and  thus 
ended  a  journey,  which  one  at  least  of  the  party 
might  have  wished  unending. 


RETROSPECTION.  67 

I  have  not  been  particularly  anxious  to  give  the 
geography  of  the  scene,  inasmuch  as  it  seemed  to  me 
no  route,  nor  series  of  stations,  but  a  garden  inter 
spersed  with  cottages,  groves  and  flowery  lawns, 
through  which  a  stately  river  ran.  I  had  no  guide 
book,  kept  no  diary,  do  not  know  how  many  miles 
we  travelled  each  day,  nor  how  many  in  all.  What 
I  got  from  the  journey  was  the  poetic  impression  of 
the  country  at  large  ;  it  is  all  I  have  aimed  to  com 
municate. 

The  narrative  might  have  been  made  much  more 
interesting,  as  life  was  at  the  time,  by  many  piquant 
anecdotes  and  tales  drawn  from  private  life.  But 
here  courtesy  restrains  the  pen,  for  I  know  those 
who  received  the  stranger  with  such  frank  kindness 
would  feel  ill  requited  by  its  becoming  the  means  of 
fixing  many  spy-glasses,  even  though  the  scrutiny 
might  be  one  of  admiring  interest,  upon  their  private 
homes. 

For  many  of  these,  too,  I  was  indebted  to  a  friend, 
whose  property  they  more  lawfully  are.  This  friend 
was  one  of  those  rare  beings  who  are  equally  at  home 
in  nature  and  with  man.  He  knew  a  tale  of  all  that 
ran  and  swam,  and  flew,  or  only  grew,  possessing 
that  extensive  familiarity  with  things  which  shows 
equal  sweetness  of  sympathy  and  playful  penetration. 
Most  refreshing  to  me  was  his  unstudied  lore,  the  un 
written  poetry  which  common  life  presents  to  a  strong 
and  gentle  mind.  It  was  a  great  contrast  to  the 
subtleties  of  analysis,  the  philosophic  strainings  of 
which  I  had  seen  too  much.  But  I  will  not  attempt 
to  transplant  it.  May  it  profit  others  as  it  did  me  in 


68  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

the  region  where  it  was  born,  where  it  belongs.  The 
evening  of  our  return  to  Chicago  the  sunset  was  of  a 
splendor  and  calmness  beyond  any  we  saw  at  the 
West.  The  twilight  that  succeeded  was  equally 
beautiful ;  soft,  pathetic,  but  just  so  calm.  When  af 
terwards  I  learned  this  was  the  evening  of  Allston's 
death,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  this  glorious  pageant  was 
not  without  connection  with  that  event ;  at  least,  it 
inspired  similar  emotions,  —  a  heavenly  gate  closing 
a  path  adorned  with  shows  well  worthy  Paradise. 


Farewell,  ye  soft  and  sumptuous  solitudes  ! 

Ye  fairy  distances,  ye  lordly  woods, 

Haunted  by  paths  like  those  that  Poussin  knew, 

"When  after  his  all  gazers  eyes  he  drew ; 

I  go,  —  and  if  I  never  more  may  steep 

An  eager  heart  in  your  enchantments  deep, 

Yet  ever  to  itself  that  heart  may  say, 

Be  not  exacting ;  thou  hast  lived  one  day  ; 

Hast  looked  on  that  which  matches  with  thy  mood, 

Impassioned  sweetness  of  full  being's  flood, 

Where  nothing  checked  the  bold  yet  gentle  wave, 

Where  nought  repelled  the  lavish  love  that  gave. 

A  tender  blessing  lingers  o'er  the  scene, 

Like  some  young  mother's  thought,  fond,  yet  serene, 

And  through  its  life  new-born  our  lives  have  been. 

Once  more  farewell,  —  a  sad,  a  sweet  farewell  ; 

And,  if  I  never  must  behold  you  more, 

In  other  worlds  I  will  not  cease  to  tell 

The  rosary  I  here  have  numbered  o'er ; 


FAREWELL.  69 

And  bright-haired  Hope  will  lend  a  gladdened  ear, 
And  Love  will  free  him  from  the  grasp  of  Fear, 
And  Gorgon  critics,  while  the  tale  they  hear, 
Shall  dew  their  stony  glances  with  a  tear, 
If  I  but  catch  one  echo  from  your  spell ;  — 
And  so  farewell,  —  a  grateful,  sad  farewell  I 


CHAPTER   IV. 


CHICAGO    AGAIN. 

CHICAGO  had  become  interesting  to  me  now,  that  I 
knew  it  as  the  portal  to  so  fair  a  scene.  I  had  be 
come  interested  in  the  land,  in  the  people,  and  looked 
sorrowfully  on  the  lake  on  which  I  must  soon  em 
bark,  to  leave  behind  what  I  had  just  begun  to 
enjoy. 

Now  was  the  time  to  see  the  lake..  The  July 
moon  was  near  its  full,  and  night  after  night  it  rose 
in  a  cloudless  sky  above  this  majestic  sea.  The  heat 
was  excessive,  so  that  there  was  no  enjoyment  of  life, 
except  in  the  night,  but  then  the  air  was  of  that  de 
licious  temperature,  worthy  of  orange  groves.  How 
ever,  they  were  not  wanted  ;  —  nothing  was,  as  that 
full  light  fell  on  the  faintly  rippling  waters  which  then 
seemed  boundless. 

A  poem  received  shortly  after,  from  a  friend  in 
Massachusetts,  seemed  to  say  that  the  July  moon 
shone  there  not  less  splendid,  and  may  claim  inser 
tion  here. 


TRIFORMIS.  71 


TRIFORMIS. 

So  pure  her  forehead's  dazzling  white,    . 

So  swift  and  clear  her  radiant  eyes, 
Within  the  treasure  of  whose  light 

Lay  undeveloped  destinies,  — 
Of  thoughts  repressed  such  hidden  store 

Was  hinted  by  each  flitting  smile,    . 
I  could  but  wonder  and  adore, 

Far  off,  in  awe,  I  gazed  the  while. 

I  gazed  at  her,  as  at  the  moon, 

Hanging  in  lustrous  twilight  skies, 

Whose  virgin  crescent,  sinking  soon, 
Peeps  through  the  leaves  before  it  flies. 

Untouched  Diana,  flitting  dim, 

While  sings  the  wood  its  evening  hymn. 

ii. 

Again  we  met.     O  joyful  meeting  ! 

Her  radiance  how  was  all  for  me, 
Like  kindly  airs  her  kindly  greeting, 

So  full,  so  musical,  so  free. 
Within  romantic  forest  aisles, 

Within  romantic  paths  we  walked, 
I  bathed  me  in  her  sister  smiles, 

I  breathed  her  beauty  as  we  talked. 

So  full-orbed  Cynthia  walks  the  skies, 
Filling  the  earth  with  melodies, 

Even  so  she  condescends  to  kiss 

Drowsy  Endymions,  coarse  and  dull, 

Or  fills  our  waking  souls  with  bliss, 
Making  long  nights  too  beautiful. 


72  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

III. 

O  fair,  but  fickle  lady-moon, 

Why  must  thy  full  form  ever  wane  1 

0  love  !  O  friendship  !  why  so  soon 
Must  your  sweet  light  recede  again  ? 

1  wake  me  in  the  dead  of  night, 

And  start,  —  for  through  the  misty  gloom 
Red  Hecate  stares  —  a  boding  sight !  — 
Looks  in,  but  never  fills  my  room. 

Thou  music  of  my  boyhood's  hour  ! 

Thou  shining  light  on  manhood's  way ! 
No  more  dost  thou  fair  influence  shower 

To  move  my  soul  by  night  or  day. 
O  strange  !  that  while  in  hall  and  street 

Thy  hand  I  touch,  thy  grace  I  meet, 
Such  miles  of  polar  ice  should  part 

The  slightest  touch  of  mind  and  heart ! 
But  all  thy  love  has  waned,  and  so 

I  gladly  let  thy  beauty  go. 

Now  that  I  am  borrowing,  I  will  also  give  a  letter 
received  at  this  time,  and  extracts  from  others  from 
an  earlier  traveller,  and  in  a  different  region  of  the 
country  from  that  I  saw,  which,  I  think,  in  different 
ways,  admirably  descriptive  of  the  country. 

"  And  you,  too,  love  the  Prairies,  flying  voyager  of 
a  summer  hour ;  but  I  have  only  there  owned  the 
wild  forest,  the  wide-spread  meadows ;  there  only 
built  my  house,  and  seen  the  livelong  day  the  thought 
ful  shadows  of  the  great  clouds  color,  with  all-tran 
sient  browns,  the  untrampled  floor  of  grass  ;  there 
has  Spring  pranked  the  long  smooth  reaches  with 


THE    PRAIRIES.  73 

those  golden  flowers,  whereby  became  the  fields  a 
sea  too  golden  to  o'erlast  the  heats.  Yes  !  and  with 
many  a  yellow  bell  she  gilded  our  unbounded  path, 
that  sank  in  the  light  swells  of  the  varied  surface, 
skirted  the  untilled  barrens,  nor  shunned  the  steep 
banks  of  rivers  darting  merrily  on.  There  has  the 
white  snow  frolicsomely  strown  itself,  till  all  that  vast, 
outstretched  distance  glittered  like  a  mirror  in  which 
only  the  heavens  were  reflected,  and  among  these 
drifts  our  steps  have  been  curbed.  Ah  !  many  days 
of  precious  weather  are  on  the  Prairies  ! 

"  You  have  then  found,  after  many  a  weary  hour, 
when  Time  has  locked  your  temples  as  in  .a  circle  of 
heated  metal,  some  cool,  sweet,  swift-gliding  mo 
ments,  the  iron  ring  of  necessity  ungirt,  and  the 
fevered  pulses  at  rest.  You  have  also  found  this 
where  fresh  nature  suffers  no  ravage,  amid  those  bow 
ers  of  wild- wood,  those  dream-like,  bee-sung,  mur 
muring  and  musical  plains,  swimming  under  their 
hazy  distances,  as  if  there,  in  that  warm  and  deep 
back  ground,  stood  the  fairy  castle  of  our  hopes,  with 
its  fountains,  its  pictures,  its  many  mystical  figures  in 
repose.  Ever  could  we  rove  over  those  sunny  dis 
tances,  breathing  that  modulated  wind,  eyeing  those 
so  well-blended,  imaginative,  yet  thoughtful  surfaces, 
and  above  us  wide  —  wide  a  horizon  effortless  and 
superb  as  a  young  divinity. 

"I  was  a  prisoner  where  you  glide,  the  summer's 
pensioned  guest,  and  my  chains  were  the  past  and 
the  future,  darkness  and  blowing  sand.  There,  very 
weary,  I  received  from  the  distance  a  sweet  emblem 
of  an  incorruptible,  lofty  and  pervasive  nature,  but 
7 


74  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

was  I  less  weary  ?  I  was  a  prisoner,  and  you,  plains, 
were  my  prison  bars. 

"  Yet  never,  O  never,  beautiful  plains,  had  I  any 
feeling  for  you  but  profoundest  gratitude,  for  indeed 
ye  are  only  fair,  grand  and  majestic,  while  I  had 
scarcely  a  right  there.  Now,  ye  stand  in  that  past 
day,  grateful  images  of  unshattered  repose,  simple  in 
your  tranquillity,  strong  in  your  self-possession,  yet 
ever  musical  and  springing  as  the  footsteps  of  a  child. 

"  Ah !  that  to  some  poet,  whose  lyre  had  never 
lost  a  string,  to  whom  mortality,  kinder  than  is  her 
custom,  had  vouchsafed  a  day  whose  down  had  been 
untouched,  —  that  to  him  these  plains  might  enter, 
and  flow  forth  in  airy  song.  And  you,  forests,  under 
whose  symmetrical  shields  of  dark  green  the  colors  of 
the  fawns  move,  like  the  waters  of  the  river  under 
its  spears,  —  its  cimeters  of  flag,  where,  in  gleaming 
circles  of  steel,  the  breasts  of  the  wood-pigeons  flash 
in  the  playful  sunbeam,  and  many  sounds,  many  notes 
of  no  earthly  music,  come  over  the  well-relieved 
glades,  —  should  not  your  depth  pass  into  that 
poet's  heart,  —  in  your  depths  should  he  not  fuse  his 
own  ?  " 

The  other  letters  show  the  painter's  eye,  as  this 
the  poet's  heart. 

"Springfield,  Illinois,  May  20,  1840. 

"  Yesterday  morning  I  left  Griggsville,  my  knap 
sack  at  my  back,  pursued  my  journey  all  day  on  foot, 
and  found  so  new  and  great  delight  in  this  charming 
country,  that  I  must  needs  tell  you  about  it.  Do 
you  remember  our  saying  once,  that  we  never  found 


THE    PRAIRIES.  75 

the  trees  tall  enough,  the  fields  green  enough.  Well, 
the  trees  are  for  once  tall,  and  fair  to  look  upon,  and 
one  unvarying  carpet  of  the  tenderest  green  covers 
these  marvellous  fields,  that  spread  out  their  smooth 
sod  for  miles  and  miles,  till  they  even  reach  the 
horizon.  But,  to  begin  my  day's  journey.  Griggs- 
ville  is  situated  on  the  west  side  of  the  Illinois 
river,  on  a  high  prairie ;  between  it  and  the  river  is  a 
long  range  of  bluffs  which  reaches  a  hundred  miles 
north  and  south,  then  a  wide  river  bottom,  and  then 
the  river.  It  was  a  mild,  showery  morning,  and  I 
directed  my  steps  toward  the  bluffs.  They  are 
covered  with  forest,  not  like  our  forests,  tangled  and 
impassable,  but  where  the  trees  stand  fair  and  apart 
from  one  another,  so  that  you  might  ride  every 
where  about  on  horseback,  and  the  tops  of  the  hills 
are  generally  bald,  and  covered  with  green  turf,  like 
our  pastures.  Indeed,  the  whole  country  reminds 
me  perpetually  of  one  that  has  been  carefully  culti 
vated  by  a  civilized  people,  who  had  been  suddenly 
removed  from  the  earth,  with  all  the  works  of  their 
hands,  and  the  land  given  again  into  nature's  keep 
ing.  The  solitudes  are  not  savage ;  they  have  not 
that  dreary,  stony  loneliness  that  used  to  affect  me 
in  our  own  country  ;  they  never  repel ;  there  are  no 
lonely  heights,  no  isolated  spots,  but  all  is  gentle, 
mild,  inviting,  —  all  is  accessible.  In  following  this 
winding,  hilly  road  for  four  or  five  miles,  I  think  I 
counted  at  least  a  dozen  new  kinds  of  wild  flowers, 
not  timid,  retiring  little  plants  like  ours,  but  bold 
flowers  of  rich  colors,  covering  the  ground  in  abun 
dance.  One  very  common  flower  resembles  our  car- 


76  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

dinal  flower,  though  not.  of  so  deep  a  color,  another 
is  very  like  rocket  or  phlox,  but  smaller  and  of  va 
rious  colors,  white,  blue  and  purple.  Beautiful  white 
lupines  I  find  too,  violets  white  and  purple.  The 
vines  and  parasites  are  magnificent.  I  followed  on 
this  road  till  I  came  to  the  prairie  which  skirts  the 
river,  and  this,  of  all  the  beauties  of  this  region,  is 
the  most  peculiar  and  wonderful.  Imagine  a  vast 
and  gently-swelling  pasture  of  the  brightest  green 
grass,  stretching  away  from  you  on  every  side,  be 
hind,  toward  these  hills  I  have  described,  in  all  other 
directions,  to  a  belt  of  tall  -trees,  all  growing  up  with 
noble  proportions,  from  the  generous  soil.  It  is  an 
unimagined  picture  of  abundance  and  peace.  Some 
where  about,  you  are  sure  to  see  a  huge  herd  of 
cattle,  often  white,  and  generally  brightly  marked, 
grazing.  All  looks  like  the  work  of  man's  hand,  but 
you  see  no  vestige  of  man,  save  perhaps  an  almost 
imperceptible  hut  on  the  edge  of  the  prairie.  Reach 
ing  the  river,  I  ferried  myself  across,  and  then  crossed 
over  to  take  the  Jacksonville  railroad,  but,  finding 
there  was  no  train,  passed  the  night  at  a  farm  house. 
And  here  may  find  its  place  this  converse  between 
the  solitary  old  man  and  the  young  traveller. 

SOLITARY. 

My  son,  with  weariness  thou  seemest  spent, 

And  toiling  on  the  dusty  road  all  day, 

Weary  and  pale,  jet  with  inconstant  step,  .>.^  ' 

Hither  and  thither  turning,  —  seekest  thou 

To  find  aught  lost,  or  what  dark  care  pursues  thee  ? 

If  thou  art  weary,  rest,  if  hungry,  eat. 


EVENING    THOUGHTS.  77 

TRAVELLER. 

Oh  rather,  father,  let  me  ask  of  thee 
What  is  it  I  do  seek,  what  thing  I  lack  ? 
These  many  days  I've  left  my  father's  hall, 
Forth  driven  by  insatiable  desire, 
That,  like  the  wind,  now  gently  murmuring, 
Enticed  me  forward  with  its  own  sweet  voice 
Through  many-leaved  woods,  and  valleys  deep, 
Yet  ever  fled  before  me.     Then  with  sound 
Stronger  than  hurrying  tempest,  seizing  me, 
Forced  me  to  fly  its  power.     Forward  still, 
Bound  by  enchanted  ties,  I  seek  its  source. 
Sometimes  it  is  a  something  I  have  lost, 
Known  long  since,  before  I  bent  my  steps 
Toward  this  beautiful  broad  plane  of  earth. 
Sometimes  it  is  a  spirit  yet  unknown, 
In  whose  dim-imaged  features  seem  to  smile 
The  dear  delight  of  these  high-mans ioned  thoughts, 
That  sometimes  visit  me.     Like  unto  mine 
Her  lineaments  appear,  but  beautiful, 
As  of  a  sister  in  a  far-off  world, 
Waiting  to  welcome  me.     And  when  I  think 
To  reach  and  clasp  the  figure,  it  is  gone, 
And  some  ill-omened  ghastly  vision  comes 
To  bid  beware,  and  not  too  curiously 
Demand  the  secrets  of  that  distant  world, 
Whose  shadow  haunts  me.  —  On  the  waves  below 
But  now  I  gazed,  warmed  with  the  setting  sun, 
Who  sent  his  golden  streamers  to  my  feet, 
It  seemed  a  pathway  to  a  world  beyond, 
And  I  looked  round,  if  that  my  spirit  beckoned 
That  I  might  follow  it. 

SOLITARY. 

Dreams  all,  my  son.     Yes,  even  so  I  dreamed, 
7* 


78  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

And  even  so  was  thwarted.     You  must  learn 
To  dream  another  long  and  troublous  dream, 
The  dream  of  life.     And  you  shall  think  you  wake. 
And  think  the  shadows  substance,  love  and  hate, 
Exchange  and  barter,  joy,  and  weep,  and  dance,  \ 
And  this  too  shall  be  dream. 

;;  TRAVELLER. 
Oh  who  can  say 

Where  lies  the  boundary?     What  solid  things 
That  daily  mock  our  senses,  shall  dissolve 
Before  the  might  within,  while  shadowy  forms 
Freeze  into  stark  reality,  defying 
The  force  and  will  of  man.  .  These  forms  I  see, 
They  may  go  with  me  through  eternity, 
And  bless  or  curse  with  ceaseless  company, 
While  yonder  man,  that  I  met  yesternight, 
Where  is  he  now  ?     He  passed  before  my  eyes, 
He  is  gone,  but  these  stay  with  me  ever. 

That  night  the  young  man  rested  with  the  old, 

And,  grave  or  gay,  in  laughter  or  in  tears, 

They  wore  the  night  in  converse.     Morning  came, 

The  dreamer  took  his  solitary  way ; 

And,  as  he  pressed  the  old  man's  hand,  he  sighed, 

Must  this  too  be  a  dream  1 

Afterwards,  of  the  rolling  prairie.  "  There  was 
one  of  twenty  miles  in  extent,  hot  flat,  but  high  and 
rolling,  so  that  when  you  arrived  at  a  high  part,  by 
gentle  ascents,  the  view  was  beyond  measure  grand  ; 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  nothing  but  the  green, 
rolling  plain,  and  at  a  vast  distance,  groves,  all  look 
ing  gentle  and  cultivated,  yet  all  uninhabited.  I 


HASTE    MAKES    WASTE.  79 

think  it  would  impress  you,  as  it  does  me,  that  these 
scenes  are  truly  sublime.  I  have  a  sensation  of  vast- 
ness  which  I  have  sought  in  vain  among  high  moun 
tains.  Mountains  crowd  one  sensation  on  another, 
till  all  is  excitement,  all  is  surprise,  wonder,  enchant 
ment.  Here  is  neither  enchantment  or  disappoint 
ment,  but  expectation  fully  realized.  I  have  always 
had  an  attachment  for  a  plain.  The  Roman  Cam- 
pagna  is  a  prairie.  Peoria  is  in  a  most  lovely  situa 
tion.  In  fact  I  am  so  delighted  that  I  am  as  full 
of  superlatives  as  the  Italian  language.  I  could, 
however,  find  fault  enough,  if  you  ask  what  I  dis 
like." 

But  no  one  did  ask ;  it  is  not  worth  while  where 
there  is  so  much  to  admire.  Yet  the  following  is 
a  good  statement  of  the  shadow  side.  '*.:;' 

"  As  to  the  boasts  about  the  rapid  progress  here, 
give  me  rather  the  firm  fibre  of  a  slow  and  knotty 
growth.  I  could  not  help  thinking  as  much  when  I 
was  talking  to  E.  the  other  day,  whom  I  met  on 
board  the  boat.  He  quarrelled  with  Boston  for  its 
slowness  ;  said  it  was  a  bad  place  for  a  young  man. 
He  could  not  make  himself  felt,  could  not  see  the 
effects  of  his  exertions  as  he  could  here.  —  To  be 
sure  he  could  not.  Here  he  comes,  like  a  yankee 
farmer,  with  all  the  knowledge  that  our  hard  soil 
and  laborious  cultivation  could  give  him,  and  what 
wonder  if  he  is. surprised  at  the  work  of  his  own 
hands,  when  h*e  comes  to  such  a  soil  as  this.  But 
he  feeds  not  so  many  mouths,  though  he  tills  more 
acres.  The  plants  he  raises  have  not  so  exquisite  a 
form,  the  vegetables  so  fine  a  flavor.  His  cultivation 


80  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

becomes  more  negligent,  he  is  not  so  good  a  farmer. 
Is  not  this  a  true  view  ?  It  strikes  me  continually. 
The  traces  of  a  man's  hand  in  a  new  country  are 
rarely  productive  of  beauty.  It  is  a  cutting  down  of 
forest  trees  to  make  zigzag  fences." 

The  most  picturesque  objects  to  be  seen  from 
Chicago  on  the  inland  side  were  the  lines  of  Hoosier 
wagons.  These  rude  farmers,  the  large  first  product 
of  the  soil,  travel  leisurely  along,  sleeping  in  their 
wagons  by  night,  eating  only  what  they  bring  with 
them.  In  the  town  they  observe  the  same  plan,  and 
trouble  no  luxurious  hotel  for  board  and  lodging. 
In  the  town  they  look  like  foreign  peasantry,  and 
contrast  well  with  the  many  Germans,  Dutch,  and 
Irish.  In  the  country  it  is  very  pretty  to  see  them 
prepared  to  "  camp  out "  at  night,  their  horses  taken 
out  of  harness,  and  they  lounging  under  the  trees, 
enjoying  the  evening  meal. 

On  the  lake  side  it  is  fine  to  see  the  great  boats 
come  panting  it  from  their  rapid  and  marvellous  jour 
ney.  Especially  at  night  the  motion  of  their  lights 
is  very  majestic.  "?&[. 

When  the  favorite  boats,  the  Great  Western  and 
Illinois,  are  going  out,  the  town  is  thronged  with 
people  from  the  south  and  farther  west,  to  go  in 
them.  These  moonlight  nights  I  would  hear  the 
French  rippling  and  fluttering  familiarly  amid  the  rude 
ups  and  downs  of  the  Hoosier  dialect. 

At  the  hotel  table  were  daily  to  *be  seen  new 
faces,  and  new  stories  to  be  learned.  And  any  one 
who  has  a  large  acquaintance  may  be  pretty  sure  of 
meeting  some  of  them  here  in  the  course  of  a  few 
days. 


MARIANA.  81 

Among  those  whom  I  met  was  Mrs.  Z.,  the  aunt 
of  an  old  schoolmate,  to  whom  I  impatiently  hast 
ened,  as  soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  to  demand  news 
of  Mariana.  The  answer  startled  me.  Mariana,  so 
full  of  life,  was  dead.  That  form,  the  most  rich  in 
energy  and  coloring  of  any  I  had  ever  seen,  had 
faded  from  the  earth.  The  circle  of  youthful  asso 
ciations  had  given  way  in  the  part,  that  seemed  the 
strongest.  What  I  now  learned  of  the  story  of  this 
life,  and  what  was  by  myself  remembered,  may  be 
bound  together  in  this  slight  sketch. 

At  the  boarding-school  to  which  I  was  too  early 
sent,  a  fond,  a  proud,  and  timid  child,  I  saw  among 
the  ranks  of  the  gay  and  graceful,  bright  or  earnest 
girls,  only  one  who  interested  my  fancy,  or  touched 
my  young  heart ;  and  this  was  Mariana.  She  was, 
on  the  father's  side,  of  Spanish  Creole  blood,  but  had 
been  sent  to  the  Atlantic  coast,  to  receive  a  school 
education  under  the  care  of  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Z. 

This  lady  had  kept  her  mostly  at  home  with  her 
self,  and  Mariana  had  gone  from  her  house  to  a  day- 
school  ;  but  the  aunt,  being  absent  for  a  time  in  Eu 
rope,  she  had  now  been  unfortunately  committed  for 
some  time  to  the  mercies  of  a  boarding-school. 

A  strange  bird  she  proved  there,  —  a  lonely  swal 
low  that  could  not  make  for  itself  a  summer.  At 
first,  her  schoolmates  were  captivated  with  her  ways ; 
her  love  of  wild  dances  and  sudden  song,  her  freaks 
of  passion  and  of  wit.  She  was  always  new,  always 
surprising,  and,  for  a  time,  charming. 

But,  after  awhile,  they  tired  of  her.  She  could 
never  be  depended  on  to  join  in  their  plans,  yet  she 


82  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

expected  them  to  follow  out  hers  with  their  whole 
strength.  She  was  very  loving,  even  infatuated  in 
her  own  affections,  and  exacted  from  those  who  had 
professed  any  love  for  her,  thg,  devotion  she  was  will 
ing  to  bestow. 

Yet  there  was  a  vein  of  haughty  caprice  in  her 
character  ;  a  love  of  solitude,  which  made  her  at 
times  wish  to  retire  entirely,  and  at  these  times  she 
would  expect  to  be  thoroughly  understood,  and  let 
alone,  yet  to  be  welcomed  back  when  she  returned. 
She  did  not  thwart  others  in  their  humors,  but  she 
never  doubted  of  great  indulgence  from  them. 

Some  singular  habits  she  had  which,  when  new, 
charmed,  but,  after  acquaintance,  displeased  her  com 
panions.  She  had  by  nature  the  same  habit  and 
power  of  excitement  that  is  described  in  the  spinning 
dervishes  of  the  East.  Like  them,  she  would  spin 
until  all  around  her  were  giddy,  while  her  own  brain, 
instead  of  being  disturbed,  was  excited  to  great  ac 
tion.  Pausing,  she  would  declaim  verse  of  others  or 
her  own  ;  act  many  parts,  with  strange  catch-words 
and  burdens  that  seemed  to  act  with  mystical  power 
on  her  own  fancy,  sometimes  stimulating  her  to  con 
vulse  the  hearer  with  laughter,  sometimes  to  melt 
him  to  tears.  When  her  power  began  to  languish, 
she  would  spin  again  till  fired  to  recommence  her 
singular  drama,  into  which  she  wove  figures  from  the 
scenes  of  her  earlier  childhood,  her  companions,  and 
the  dignitaries  she  sometimes  saw,  with  fantasies  un 
known  to  life,  unknown  to  heaven  or  earth. 

This  excitement,  as  may  be  supposed,  was  not 
good  for  her.  It  oftenest  came  on  in  the  evening, 


MARIANA.  83 

and  often  spoiled  her  sleep.  She  would  wake  in 
the  night,  and  cheat  her  restlessness  by  inventions 
that  teazed,  while  they  sometimes  diverted  her  com 
panions. 

She  was  also  a  sleep-walker ;  and  this  one  trait  of 
her  case  did  somewhat  alarm  her  guardians,  who, 
otherwise,  showed  the  same  profound  stupidity  as  to 
this  peculiar  being,  usual  in  the  overseers  of  the  young. 
They  consulted  a  physician,  who  said  she  would  out 
grow  it,  and  prescribed  a  milk  diet. 

Meantime,  the  fever  of  this  ardent  and  too  early 
stimulated  nature  was  constantly  increased  by  the 
restraints  and  narrow  routine  of  the  boarding  school. 
She  was  always  devising  means  to  break  in  upon  it. 
She  had  a  taste  which  would  have  seemed  ludicrous 
to  her  mates,  if  they  had  not  felt  some  awe  of  her, 
from  a  touch  of  genius  and  power  that  never  left  her, 
for  costume  and  fancy  dresses,  always  some  sash 
twisted  about  her,  some  drapery,  something  odd  in 
the  arrangement  of  her  hair  and  dress,  so  that  the 
methodical  preceptress  dared  not  let  her  go  out  with 
out  a  careful  scrutiny  and  remodelling,  whose  sober- 
izing  effects  generally  disappeared  the  moment  she 
was  in  the  free  air. 

At  last,  a  vent  for  her  was  found  in  private  theatri 
cals.  Play  followed  play,  and  in  these  and  the  re 
hearsals  she  found  entertainment  congenial  with  her. 
The  principal  parts,  as  a  matter  of  course,  fell  to  her 
lot ;  most  of  the  good  suggestions  and  arrangements 
came  from  her,  and  for  a  time  she  ruled  masterly  and 
shone  triumphant. 

During  these  performances  the  girls  had  heightened 


84  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

their  natural  bloom  with  artificial  red ;  this  was  de 
lightful  to  them  —  it  was  something  so  out  of  the  way. 
But  Mariana,  after  the  plays  were  over,  kept  her  car 
mine  saucer  on  the1  dressing-table,  and  put  on  her 
blushes  regularly  as  the  morning. 

When  stared  and  jeered  at,  she  at  first  said  she  did 
it  because  she  thought  it  made  her  look  prettier  ;  but, 
after  a  while,  she  became  quite  petulant  about  it, — 
would,  make  no  reply  to  any  joke,  but  merely  kept. on 
doing  it. 

This  irritated  the  girls,  as  all  eccentricity  does  the 
world  in  general,  more  than  vice  or  malignity. 
They  talked  it  over  among  themselves,  till  they  got 
wrought  up  to  a  desire  of  punishing,  once  for  all, 
this  sometimes  amusing,  but  so  often  provoking  non 
conformist. 

Having  obtained  the  leave  of  the  mistress,  they 
laid,  with  great  glee,  a  plan  one  evening,  which  was 
to  be  carried  into  execution  next  day  at  dinner. 

Among  Mariana's  irregularities  was  a  great  aver 
sion  to  the  meal-time  ceremonial.  So  long,  so  tire 
some  she  found  it,  to  be  seated  at  a  certain  moment, 
to  wait  while  each  one  was  served  at  so  large  a  table, 
and  one  where  there  was  scarcely  any  conversation  ; 
from  day  to  day  it  became  more  heavy  to  her  to  sit 
there,  or  go  there  at  all.  Often  as  possible  she  ex 
cused  herself  on  the  ever-convenient  plea  of  head 
ache,  and  was  hardly  ever  ready  when  the  dinner- 
bell  rang. 

To-day  it  found  her  on  the  balcony,  lost  in  gazing 
on  the  beautiful  prospect.  I  have  heard  her  say  af 
terwards,  she  had  rarely  in  her  life  .been  so  happy,  — *- 


MARIANA.  85 

and  she  was  one  with  whom  happiness  was  a  still 
rapture.  It  was  one  of  the  most  blessed  summer 
days  ;  the  shadows  of  great  white  clouds  empurpled 
the  distant  hills  for  a  few  moments  only  to  leave 
them  more  golden;  the  tall  grass  of  the  wide  fields 
waved  in  the  softest  breeze.  Pure  blue  were  the 
heavens,  and  the  same  hue  of  pure  contentment  was 
in  the  heart  of  Mariana. 

Suddenly  on  her  bright  mood  jarred  the  dinner 
bell.  At  first  rose  her  usual  thought,  I  will  not,  can 
not  go ;  and  then  the  must,  which  daily  life  can  al 
ways  enforce,  even  upon  the  butterflies  and  birds, 
came,  and  she  walked  reluctantly  to  her  room.  She 
merely  changed  her  dress,  and  never  thought  of  ad 
ding  the  artificial  rose  to  her  cheek. 

When  she  took  her  seat  in  the  dining-hall,  and 
was  asked  if  she  would  be  helped,  raising  her  eyes, 
she  saw  the  person  who  asked  her  was  deeply 
rouged,  with  a  bright  glaring  spot,  perfectly  round,  in 
either  cheek.  She  looked  at  the  next,  same  appa 
rition  !  She  then  slowly  passed  her  eyes  down  the 
whole  line,  and  saw  the  same,  with  a  suppressed 
smile  distorting  every  countenance.  Catching  the 
design  at  once,  she  deliberately  looked  along  her 
own  side  of  the  table,  at  every  schoolmate  in  turn  ; 
every  one  had  joined  in  the  trick.  The  teachers 
strove  to  be  grave,  but  she  saw  they  enjoyed  the  joke. 
The  servants  could  not  suppress  a  titter. 

When  Warren  Hastings  stood  at  the  bar  of  West 
minster  Hall- — "when  the  Methodist  preacher  walked 
through  a  line  of  men,  each  of  whom  greeted  him 
with  a  brickbat  or  a  rotten  egg,  they  had  some  pre- 
8 


86  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

paration  for  the  crisis,  and  it  might  not  be  very  diffi 
cult  to  meet  it  with  an  impassive  brow.  Our  little 
girl  was  quite  unprepared  to  find  herself  in  the  midst 
of  a  world  which  despised  her,  and  triumphed  in  her 
disgrace. 

She  had  ruled,  like  a  queen,  in  the  midst  of  her 
companions ;  she  had  shed  her  animation  through 
their  lives,  and  loaded  them  with  prodigal  favors,  nor 
once  suspected  that  a  powerful  favorite  might  not  be 
loved.  Now,  she  felt  that  she  had  been  but  a  dan 
gerous  plaything  in  the  hands  of  those  whose  hearts 
she  never  had  doubted. 

Yet,  the  occasion  found  her  equal  to  it,  for  Mari 
ana  had  the  kind  of  spirit,  which,  in  a  better  cause, 
had  made  the  Roman  matron  truly  say  of  her  death- 
wound,  "  It  is  not  painful,  Foetus."  She  did  not 
blench  —  she  did  not  change  countenance.  She 
swallowed  her  dinner  with  apparent  composure.  She 
made  remarks  to  those  near  her,  as  if  she  had  no 
eyes. 

The  wrath  of  the  foe  of  course  rose  higher,  and 
the  moment  they  were  freed  from  the  restraints  of 
the  dining-room,  they  all  ran  off,  gaily  calling,  and 
sarcastically  laughing,  with  backward  glances,  at  Ma 
riana,  left  alone. 

She  went  alone  to  her  room,  locked  the  door,  and 
threw  herself  on  the  floor  in  strong  convulsions. 
These  had  sometimes  threatened  her  life,  as  a  child, 
but  of  later  years,  she  had  outgrown  them.  School- 
hours  came,  and  she  was  not  there.  A  little  girl,  sent 
to  her  door,  could  get  no  answer.  The  teachers  be 
came  alarmed,  and  broke  it  open.  Bitter  was  their 


MARIANA. 


87 


penitence  and  that  of  her  companions  at  the  state  in 
which  they  found  her.  For  some  hours,  terrible  anx 
iety  was  felt ;  but,  at  last,  nature,  exhausted,  relieved 
herself  by  a  deep  slumber. 

From  this  Mariana  rose  an  altered  being.  She 
made  no  reply  to  the  expressions  of  sorrow  from  her 
companions,  none  to  the  grave  and  kind,  but  un- 
discerning  comments  of  her  teacher.  She  did  not 
name  the  source  of  her  anguish,  and  its  poisoned 
dart  sank  deeply  in.  It  was  this  thought  which 
stung  her  so.  What,  not  one,  not  a  single  one,  in 
the  hour  of  trial,  to  take  my  part,  not  one  who  re 
fused  to  take  part  against  me.  Past  words  of  love, 
and  caresses,  little  heeded  at  the  time,  rose  to  her 
memory,  and  gave  fuel  to  her  distempered  thoughts. 
Beyond  the  sense  of  universal  perfidy,  of  burning 
resentment,  she  could  not  get.  And  Mariana,  born 
for  love,  now  hated  all  the  world. 

The  change,  however,  which  these  feelings  made  in 
her  conduct  and  appearance  bore  no  such  construction 
to  the  careless  observer.  Her  gay  freaks  were  quite 
gone,  her  wildness,  her  invention.  Her  dress  was  uni 
form,  her  manner  much  subdued.  Her  chief  interest 
seemed  now  to  lie  in  her  studies,  and  in  music.  Her 
companions  she  never  sought,  but  they,  partly  from 
uneasy  remorseful  feelings,  partly  that  they  really 
liked  her  much  better  now  that  she  did  not  oppress 
and  puzzle  them,  sought  her  continually.  And  here 
the  black  shadow  comes  upon  her  life,  the  only  stain 
upon  the  history  of  Mariana. 

They  talked  to  her,  as  girls,  having  few  topics, 
naturally  do,  of  one  another.  And  the  demon  rose 


88  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

within  her,  and  spontaneously,  without  design,  gen 
erally  without  words  of  positive  falsehood,  she  be 
came  a  genius  of  discord  among  them.  She  fanned 
those  flames  of  envy  and  jealousy  which  a  wise,  true 
word  from  a  third  will  often  quench  forever  ;  by  a 
glance,  or  a  seemingly  light  reply,  she  planted  the 
seeds  of  dissension,  till  there  was  scarce  a  peaceful 
affection,  or  sincere  intimacy  in  the  circle  where  she 
lived,  and  could  not  but  rule,  for  she  was  one  whose 
nature  was  to  that  of  the  others  as  fire  to  clay. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  I  came  to  the  school,  and 
first  saw  Mariana.  Me  she  charmed  at  once,  for  I 
was  a  sentimental  child,  who,  in  my  early  ill  health, 
had  been  indulged  in  reading  novels,  till  I  had  no 
eyes  for  the  common  greens  and  browns  of  life.  The 
heroine  of  one  of  these,  "  The  Bandit's  Bride,"  I  im 
mediately  saw  in  Mariana.  Surely  the  Bandit's  Bride 
had  just  such  hair,  and  such  strange,  lively  ways,  and 
such  a  sudden  .flash  of  the  eye.  The  Bandit's  Bride, 
too,  was  born  to  be  "  misunderstood  "  by  all  but  her 
lover.  But  Mariana,  I  was  determined,  should  be 
more  fortunate,  for,  until  her  lover  appeared,  I  my 
self  would  be  the  wise  and  delicate  being  who  could 
understand  her. 

It  was  not,  however,  easy  to  approach  her  for  this 
purpose.  Did  I  offer  to  run  and  fetch,  her  handker 
chief,  she  was  obliged  to  go  to  her  room,  and  would 
rather  do  it  herself.  She  did  not  like  to  have  people 
turn  over  for  her  the  leaves  of  the  music  book  as  she 
played.  Did  I  approach  my  stool  to  her  feet,  she 
moved  away,  as  if  to  give  me  room.  The  bunch  of 
wild  flowers  which  I  timidly  laid  beside  her  plate  was 
left  there. 


MARIANA.  89 

After  some  weeks  my  desire  to  attract  her  notice 
really  preyed  upon  me,  and  one  day  meeting  her 
alone  in  the  entry,  I  fell  upon  my  knees,  and  kissing 
her  hand,  cried,  "  O  Mariana,  do  let  me  love  you, 
and  try  to  love  me  a  little."  But  my  idol  snatched 
away  her  hand,  and,  laughing  more  wildly  than  the 
Bandit's  Bride  was  ever  described  to  have  done,  ran 
into  her  room.  After  that  day  her  manner  to  me 
was  not  only  cold,  but  repulsive  ;  I  felt  myself  scorned, 
and  became  very  unhappy. 

Perhaps  four  months  had  passed  thus,  when,  one 
afternoon,  it  became  obvious  that  something  more 
than  common  was  brewing.  Dismay  and  mystery 
were  written  in  many  faces  of  the  older  girls ;  much 
whispering  was  going  on  in  corners. 

In  the  evening,  after  prayers,  the  principal  bade 
us  stay  ;  and,  in  a  grave,  sad  voice,  summoned  forth 
Mariana  to  answer  charges  to  be  made  against  her. 

Mariana  came  forward,  and  leaned  against  the 
chimney-piece.  Eight  ef  the  older  girls  came  for 
ward,  and  preferred  against  her  charges,  alas,  too 
well-founded,  of  calumny  and  falsehood. 

My  heart  sank  within  me,  as  one  after  the  other 
brought  up  their  proofs,  and  I  saw  they  were  too 
strong  to  be  resisted.  I  could  not  bear  the  thought 
of  this  second  disgrace  of  my  shining  favorite.  The 
first  had  been  whispered  to  me,  though  the  girls  did 
not  like  to  talk  about  it.  I  must  confess,  such  is  the 
charm  of  strength  to  softer  natures,  that  neither  of 
these  crises  could  deprive  Mariana  of  hers  in  my 
eyes. 

8* 


90  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

At  first,  she  defended  herself  with  self-possession 
and  eloquence.  But  when  she  found  she  could  no 
more  resist  the  truth,  she  suddenly  threw  herself 
down,  dashing  her  head,  with  all  her  force,  against 
the  iron  hearth,  on  which  a  fire  was  burning,  and 
was  taken  up  senseless. 

The  affright  of  those  present  was  great.  Now 
that  they  had  perhaps  killed  her,  they  reflected  it 
would  have  been  as  well,  if  they  had  taken  warning 
from  the  former  occasion,  and  approached  very  care 
fully  a  nature  so  capable  of  any  extreme.  After 
awhile  she  revived,  with  a  faint  groan,  amid  the  sobs 
of  her  companions.  I  was  on  my  knees  by  the  bed, 
and  held  her  cold  hand.  One  of  those  most  ag 
grieved  took  it  from  me  to  beg  her  pardon,  and  say 
it  was  impossible  not  to  love  her.  She  made  no 

reply- 
Neither  that  night,  nor  for  several  days,  could  a 
word  be  obtained  from  her,  nor  would  she  touch 
food  ;  but,  when  it  was  presented  to  her,  or  any  one 
drew  near  for  any  cause,  she  merely  turned  away  her 
head,  and  gave  no  sign.  The  teacher  saw  that  some 
terrible  nervous  affection  had  fallen,  upon  her,  that 
she  grew  more  and  more  feverish.  She  knew  not 
what  to  do. 

Meanwhile  a  new  revolution  had  taken  place  in 
the  mind  of  the  passionate,  but  nobly-tempered  child. 
All  these  months  nothing  but  the  sense  of  injury  had 
rankled  in  her  heart.  She  had  gone  on  in  one 
mood,  doing  what  the  demon  prompted,  without 
scruple  and  without  fear. 

But,  at  the  moment  of  detection,  the  tide  ebbed, 


MARIANA.  91 

and  the  bottom  of  her  soul  lay  revealed  to  her  eye. 
How  black,  how  stained  and  sad.  Strange,  strange 
that  she  had  not  seen  before  the  baseness  and  cruelty 
of  falsehood,  the  loveliness  of  truth.  Now,  amid  the 
wreck,  uprose  the  moral  nature  which  never  before 
had  attained  the  ascendant.  "  But,"  she  thought, 
"  too  late,  sin  is  revealed  to  me  in  all  its  deformity, 
and,  sin-defiled,  I  will  not,  cannot  live.  The  main 
spring  of  life  is  broken." 

And  thus  passed  slowly  by  her  hours  in  that  black 
despair  of  which  only  youth  is  capable.  In  older 
years  men  suffer  more  dull  pain,  as  each  sorrow  that 
comes  drops  its  leaden  weight  into  the  past,  and, 
similar  features  of  character  bringing  similar  results, 
draws  up  a  heavy  burden  buried  in  those  depths. 
But  only  youth  has  energy,  with  fixed  unwinking 
gaze,  to  contemplate  grief,  to  hold  it  in  the  arms  and 
to  the  heart,  like  a  child  which  makes  it  wretched, 
yet  is  indubitably  its  own. 

The  lady  who  took  charge  of  this  sad  child  had 
never  well  understood  her  before,  but  had  always 
looked  on  her  with  great  tenderness.  And  now  love 
seemed,  when  all  around  were  in  greatest  distress, 
fearing  to  call  in  medical  aid,  fearing  to  do  without 
it,  to  teach  her  where  the  only  balm  was  to  be  found 
that  could  have  healed  this  wounded  spirit. 

One  night  she  came  in,  bringing  a  calming  draught. 
Mariana  was  sitting,  as  usual,  her  hair  loose,  her 
dress  the  same  robe  they  had  put  on  her  at  first,  her 
eyes  fixed  vacantly  upon  the  whited  wall.  To  the 
proffers  and  entreaties  of  her  nurse  she  made  no 
reply. 


92  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

The  lady  burst  into  tears,  but  Mariana  did  not 
seem  even  to  observe  it. 

The  lady  then  said,  "  O  my  child,  do  not  despair, 
do  not  think  that  one  great  fault  can  mar  a  whole 
life.  Let  me  trust  you,  let  me  tell  you  the  griefs  of 
my  sad  life.  I  will  tell  to  you,  Mariana,  what  I 
never  expected  to  impart  to  any  one." 

And  so  she  told  her  tale :  it  was  one  of  pain,  of 
shame,  borne,  not  for  herself,  but  for  one  near  and 
dear  as  herself.  Mariana  knew  the  lady,  knew  the 
pride  and  reserve  of  her  nature ;  she  had  often  ad 
mired  to  see  how  the  cheek,  lovely,  but  no  longer 
young,  mantled  with  the  deepest  blush  of  youth,  and 
the  blue  eyes  were  cast  down  at  any  little  emotion. 
She  had  understood  the  proud  sensibility  of  the 
character.  She  fixed  her  eyes  on  those  now  raised 
to  hers,  bright  with  fast  falling  tears.  She  heard  the 
story  to  the  end,  and  then,  without  saying  a  word, 
stretched  out  her  hand  for  the  cup. 

She  returned  to  life,  but  it  was  as  one  who  has 
passed  through  the  valley  of  death.  The  heart  of 
stone  was  quite  broken  in  her.  The  fiery  life  fallen 
from  flame  to  coal.  When  her  strength  was  a  little 
restored,  she  had  all  her  companions  summoned,  and 
said  to  them ;  "  I  deserved  to  die,  but  a  generous 
trust  has  called  me  back  to  life.  I  will  be  worthy  of 
it,  nor  ever  betray  the  truth,  or  resent  injury  more. 
Can  you  forgive  the  past?" 

And  they  not  only  forgave,  but,  with  love  and 
earnest  tears,  clasped  in  their  arms  the  returning 
sister.  They  vied  with  one  another  in  offices  of 
humble  love  to  the  humbled  one  ;  and,  let  it  be  re- 


MARIANA.  93 

corded  as  an  instance  of  the  pure  honor  of  which 
young  hearts  are  capable,  that  these  facts,  known  to 
forty  persons,  never,  so  far  as  I  know,  transpired 
beyond  those  walls. 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  Mariana  was  sum 
moned  home.  She  went  thither  a  wonderfully  in 
structed  being,  though  in  ways  those  who  had  sent 
her  forth  to  learn  little  dreamed  of. 

Never  was  forgotten  the  vow  of  the  returning 
prodigal.  Mariana  could  not  resent,  could  not 
play  false.  The  terrible  crisis,  which  she  so  early 
passed  through,  probably  prevented  the  world  from 
hearing  much  of  her.  A  wild  fire  was  tamed  in  that 
hour  of  penitence  at  the  boarding  school,  such  as  has 
oftentimes  wrapped  court  and  camp  in  its  destructive 
glow. 

But  great  were  the  perils  she  had  yet  to  undergo, 
for  she  was  one  of  those  barks  which  easily  get  be 
yond  soundings,  and  ride  not  lightly  on  the  plunging 
billow. 

Her  return  to  her  native  climate  seconded  the 
effects  of  inward  revolutions.  The  cool  airs  of  the 
north  had  exasperated  nerves  too  susceptible  for  their 
tension.  Those  of  the  south  restored  her  to  a  more 
soft  and  indolent  state.  Energy  gave  place  to  feel 
ing,  turbulence  to  intensity  of  character. 

At  this  time  love  was  the  natural  guest,  and  he 
came  to  her  under  a  form  that  might  have  deluded 
one  less  ready  for  delusion. 

Sylvain  was  a  person  well  proportioned  to  her  lot 
in  years,  family,  and  fortune.  His  personal  beauty 
was  not  great,  but  of  a  noble  character.  Repose 


94  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

marked  his  slow  gesture,  and  the  steady  gaze  of  his 
large  brown  eye,  but  it  was  a  repose  that  would  give 
way  to  a  blaze  of  energy  when  the  occasion  called. 
In  his  stature,  expression,  and  heavy  coloring,  he 
might  not  unfitly  be  represented  by  the  great  mag 
nolias  that  inhabit  the  forests  of  that  climate.  His 
voice,  like  everything  about  him,  was  rich  and  soft, 
rather  than  sweet  or  delicate. 

Mariana  no  sooner  knew  him  than  she  loved,  and 
her  love,  lovely  as  she  was,  soon  excited  his.  But, 
oh  !  it  is  a  curse  to  woman  to  love  first,  or  most.  In 
so  doing  she  reverses  the  natural  relations,  and  her 
heart  can  never,  never  be  satisfied  with  what  ensues. 

Mariana  loved  first,  and  loved  most,  for  she  had 
most  force  and  variety  to  love  with.  Sylvain  seemed, 
at  first,  to  take  her  to  himself,  as  the  deep  southern 
night  might  some  fair  star.  But  it  proved  not  so. 

Mariana  was  a  very  intellectual  being,  and  she 
needed  companionship.  This  she  could  only  have 
with  Sylvain,  in  the  paths  of  passion  and  action. 
Thoughts  he  had  none,  and  little  delicacy  of  senti 
ment.  The  gifts  she  loved  to  prepare  of  such  for 
him,  he  took  with  a  sweet,  but  indolent  smile ; 
he  held  them  lightly,  and  soon  they  fell  from  his 
grasp.  He  loved  to  have  her  near  him,  to  feel  the 
glow  and  fragrance  of  her  nature,  but  cared  not  to 
explore  the  little  secret  paths  whence  that  fragrance 
was  collected. 

Mariana  knew  not  this  for  a  long  time.  Loving 
so  much,  she  imagined  all  the  rest,  and,  where  she 
felt  a  blank,  always  hoped  that  further  communion 
would  fill  it  up.  When  she  found  this  .could  never 


MARIANA.  95 

be  ;  that  there  was  absolutely  a  whole  province  of 
her  being  to  which  nothing  in  his  answered,  she 
was  too  deeply  in  love  to  leave  him.  Often  after 
passing  hours  together,  beneath  the  southern  moon, 
when,  amid  the  sweet  intoxication  of  mutual  love, 
she  still  felt  the  desolation  of  solitude,  and  a  repres 
sion  of  her  finer  powers,  she  had  asked  herself,  can  I 
give  him  up  ?  But  the  heart  always  passionately  an 
swered,  no  !  I  may  be  miserable  with  him,  but  I 
cannot  live  without  him. 

And  the  last  miserable  feeling  of  these  conflicts 
was,  that  if  the  lover,  soon  to  be  the  bosom  friend, 
could  have  dreamed  of  these  conflicts,  he  would  have 
laughed,  or  else  been  angry,  even  enough  to  give 
her  up. 

Ah  weakness  of  the  strong.  Of  these  strong  only 
where  strength  is  weakness.  Like  others  she  had 
the  decisions  of  life  to  make,  before  she  had  light  by 
which  to  make  them.  Let  none  condemn  her. 
Those  who  have  not  erred  as  fatally,  should  thank 
the  guardian  angel  who  gave  them  more  time  to 
prepare  for  judgment,  but  blame  no  children  who 
thought  at  arm's  length  to  find  the  moon.  Mariana, 
with  a  heart  capable  of  highest  Eros,  gave  it  to  one 
who  knew  love  only  as  a  flower  or  plaything,  and 
bound  her  heartstrings  to  one  who  parted  his  as 
lightly  as  the  ripe  fruit  leaves  the  bough.  The  se 
quel  could  not  fail.  Many  console  themselves  for 
the  one  great  mistake  with  their  children,  with  the 
world.  This  was  not  possible  to  Mariana.  A  few 
months  of  domestic  life  she  still  was  almost  happy. 
But  Sylvain  then  grew  tired.  He  wanted  business 


96  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

and  the  world ;  of  these  she  had  no  knowledge,  for 
them  no  faculties.  He  wanted  in  her  the  head  of 
his  house  ;  she  to  make  her  heart  his  home.  No 
compromise  was  possible  between  natures  of  such 
unequal  poise,  and  which  had  met  only  on  one  or 
•two  points.  Through  all  its  stages  she  • 

"  felt 

The  agonizing  sense 
Of  seeing  love  from  passion  melt 

Into  indifference ; 
The  fearful  shame  that,  day  by  day, 

Burns  onward,  still  to  burn, 
To  have  thrown  her  precious  heart  away, 
And  met  this  black  return," 

till  death  at  last  closed  the  scene.  Not  that  she 
died  of  one  downright  blow  on  the  heart.  That  is 
not  the  way  such  cases'  proceed.  I  cannot  detail  all 
the  symptoms,  for  I  was  not  there  to  watch  them, 
and  aunt  Z.  was  neither  so  faithful  an  observer  or 
narrator  as  I  have  shown  myself  in  the  school-day 
passages ;  but,  generally,  they  were  as  follows. 

Sylvain  wanted  to  go  into  the  world,  or  let  it  into 
his  house.  Mariana  consented ;  but,  with  an  un 
satisfied  heart,  and  no  lightness  of  character,  she 
played  her  part  ill  there.  The  sort  of  talent  and 
facility  she  had  displayed  in  early  days,  were  not  the 
least  like  what  is  called  out  in  the  social  world  by 
the  .desire  to  please  and  to  shine.  Her  excitement 
had  been  muse-like,  that  of  the  improvisatrice,  whose 
kindling  fancy  seeks  to  create  an  atmosphere  round 
it,  and  makes  the  chain  through  which  to  set  free  its 
electric  sparks.  That  had  been  a  time  of  wild  and 
exuberant  life.  After  her  character  became  more 


MARIANA.  97 

tender  and  concentrated,  strong  affection  or  a  pure 
enthusiasm  might  still  have  called  out  beautiful  tal 
ents  in  her.  But  in  the  first  she  was  utterly  disap 
pointed.  The  second  was  not  roused  within  her 
thought.  She  did  not  expand  into  various  life,  and 
remained  unequal ;  sometimes  too  passive,  sometimes 
too  ardent,  and  not  sufficiently  occupied  with  what 
occupied  those  around  her  to  come  on  the  same  level 
with  them  and  embellish  their  hours. 

Thus  she  lost  ground  daily  with  her  husband,  who, 
comparing  her  with  the  careless  shining  dames  of 
society,  wondered  why  he  had  found  her  so  charming 
in  solitude. 

At  intervals,  when  they  were  left  alone,  Mariana 
wanted  to  open  her  heart,  to  tell  the  thoughts  of  her 
mind.  She  was  so  conscious  of  secret  riches  within 
herself,  that  sometimes  it  seemed,  could  she  but  re 
veal  a  glimpse  of  them  to  the  eye  of  Sylvain,  he 
would  be  attracted  near  'her  again,  and  take  a  path 
where  they  could  walk  hand  in  hand.  Sylvain,  in 
these  intervals,  wanted  an  indolent  repose.  His  liome 
was  his  castle.  He  wanted  no  scenes  too  exciting 
there.  Light  jousts  and  plays  were  well  enough, 
but  no  grave  encounters.  He  liked  to  lounge,  to 
sing,  to  read,  to  sleep.  In  fine,  Sylvain  became  the 
kind,  but  preoccupied  husband,  Mariana,  the  solitary 
and  wretched  wife.  He  was  off  continually,  with 
his  male  companions,  on  excursions  or  affairs  of 
pleasure.  At  home  Mariana  found  that  neither  her 
books  nor  music  would  console  her. 
•  She  was  of  too  strong  a  nature  to  yield  without  a 
9 


98  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

struggle  to  so  dull  a  fiend  as  despair.  She  looked 
into  other  hearts,  seeking  whether  she  could  there 
find  such  home  as  an  orphan  asylum  may  afford. 
This  she  did  rather  because  the  chance  came  to  her, 
and  it  seemed  unfit  not  to  seize  the  proffered  plank, 
than  in  hope,  for  she  was  not  one  to  double  her 
stakes,  but  rather  with  Cassandra  power  to  discern 
early  the  sure  course  of  the  game.  And  Cassandra 
whispered  that  she  was  one  of  those 

"  Whom  men  love  not,  but  yet  regret," 

And  so  it  proved.  Just  as  in  her  childish  days, 
though  in  a  different  form,  it  happened  betwixt  her 
and  these  companions.  She  could  not  be  content 
to  receive  them  quietly,  but  was  stimulated  to  throw 
herself  too  much  into  the  tie,  into  the  hour,  till  she 
filled  it  too  full  for  them.  Like  Fortunio,  who 
sought  to  do  homage  to  his  friends  by  building  a  fire 
of  cinnamon,  not  knowing  that  its  perfume  would 
be  too  strong  for  their  endurance,  so  did  Mariana. 
What  she  wanted  to  tell,  they  did  not  wish  to  hear  ; 
a  little  had  pleased,  so  much  overpowered,  and  they 
preferred  the  free  air  of  the  street,  even,  to  the  cin 
namon  perfume  of  her  palace. 

However,  this  did  not  signify ;  had  they  staid,  it 
would  not  have  availed  her  !  It  was  a  nobler  road, 
a  higher  aim  she  needed  now  ;  this  did  not  become 
clear  to  her. 

She  lost  her  appetite,  she  fell  sick,  had  fever. 
Sylvain  was  alarmed,  nursed  her  tenderly  ;  she  grew 
better.  Then  his  care  ceased,  he  saw  not  the  mind's 


MARIANA.  99 

disease,  but  left  her  to  rise  into  health  and  recover  the 
tone  of  her  spirits,  as  she  might.  More  solitary  than 
ever,  she  tried  to  raise  herself,  but  she  knew  not  yet 
enough.  The  weight  laid  upon  her  young  life  was 
a  little  too  heavy  for  it.  One  long  day  she  passed 
alone,  and  the  thoughts  and  presages  came  too  thick 
for  her  strength.  She  knew  not  what  to  do  with 
them,  relapsed  into  fever,  and  died. 

Notwithstanding  this  weakness,  I  must  ever  think 
of  her  as  a  fine  sample  of  womanhood,  born  to  shed 
light  and  life  on  some  palace  home.  Had  she  known 
more  of  God  and  the  universe,  she  would  not  have 
given  way  where  so  many  have  conquered.  But 
peace  be  with  her;  she  now,  perhaps,  has  entered 
into  a  larger  freedom,  which  is  knowledge.  With 
her  died  a  great  interest  in  life  to  me.  Since  her  I 
have  never  seen  a  Bandit's  Bride.  She,  indeed, 
turned  out  to  be  only  a  merchant's.  —  Sylvain  is 
married  again  to  a  fair  and  laughing  girl,  who  will 
not  die,  probably,  till  their  marriage  grows  a  "  golden 
marriage." 

Aunt  Z.  had  with  her  some  papers  of  Mariana's, 
which  faintly  shadow  forth  the  thoughts  that  en 
gaged  her  in  the  last  days.  One  of  these  seems  to 
have  been  written  when  some  faint  gleam  had  been 
thrown  across  the  path,  only  to  make  its  darkness 
more  visible.  It  seems  to  have  been  suggested 
by  remembrance  of  the  beautiful  ballad,  Helen  of 
Kirconnel  Lee,  which  once  she  loved  to  recite,  and 
in  tones  that  would  not  have  sent  a  chill  to  the  heart 
from  which  it  came. 


100  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES 

"  Death 

Opens  her  sweet  white  arms,. and  whispers  Peace; 
Come,  say  thy  sorrows  in  this  bosom !     This 
Will  never  close  against  thee,  and  my  heart, 
Though  cold,  cannot  be  colder  much  than  man's." 

•"  I  wish  I  were  where  Helen  lies," 
A  lover  in  the  times  of  old, 

Thus  vents  his  grief  in  lonely  sighs, 
And  hot  tears  from  a  bosom  cold. 

vM..>.  But,  mourner  for  thy  martyred  love, 

Could'st  t.hou  but  know  what  .hearts  must  feel, 

Where  no  sweet  recollections  move, 
Whose  tears  a  desert  fount  reveal. 

When  "  in  thy  arms  burd  Helen  fell," 
She  died,  sad  man,  she  died"  for  thee,. 

Nor  could  the  films  of  death  dispel 
Her  loving  eye's  sweet  radiancy. 

Thou  wert  beloved,  and  she  had  loved, 
Till  death  alone  the  whole  could  tell, 

.Death  every  shade  of  doubt  removed, 
And  steeped  the  star  in  its  cold  well. 

On  some  fond  breast  the  parting  soul 
Relies,  —  earth  has  no  more  to  give  ; 

Who  wholly  loves  has  known  the  whole, 
The  wholly  loved  doth  truly  live. 

But  some,  sad  outcasts  from  this  prize, 
Wither  down  to  a  lonely  grave, 

All  hearts  their  hidden  love  despise, 
•    And  leave  them  to  the  whelming  wave. 


MARIANA.  101 

They  heart  to  heart  have  never  pressed, 
Nor  hands  in  holy  pledge  have  given, 

By  father's  love  were  ne'er  caressed, 
Nor  in  a  mother's  eye  saw  heaven. 

A  flowerless  and  fruitless  tree, 
A  dried  up  stream,  a  mateless  bird, 

They  live,  yet  never  living  be, 
They  die,  their  music  all  unheard. 

I  wish  I  were  where  Helen  lies, 
For  there  I  could  not  be  alone ; 

But  now,  when  this  dull  body  dies, 
The  spirit  still  will  make  its  moan. 

Love  passed  me  by,  nor  touched  my  brow  ; 
Life  would  not  yield  one  perfect  boon  ; 

And  all  too  late  it  calls  me  now, 
O  all  too  late,  and  all  too  soon. 

If  thou  couldst  the  dark  riddle  read 
Which  leaves  this  dart  within  my  breast, 

Then  might  I  think  thou  lov'st  indeed, 
Then  were  the  whole  to  thee  confest. 

Father,  they  will  not  take  me  home, 
To  the  poor  child  no  heart  is  free  ; 

In  sleet  and  snow  all  night  I  roam ; 
Father,  —  was  this  decreed  by  thee  ? 

I  will  not  try  another  door, 
To  seek  what  I  have  never  found ; 

Now,  till  the  very  last  is  o'er, 
Upon  the  earth  I  '11  wander  round. 


102  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

I  will  not  hear  the  treacherous  call 
That  bids  me  stay  and  rest  awhile, 

For  I  have  found  that,  one  and  all, 
They  seek  me  for  a  prey  and  spoil. 

They  are  not  bad,  I  know  it  well ; . 
I  know  they  know  not  what  they  do  ; 

They  are  the  tools  of  the  dread  spell 
Which  the  lost  lover  must  pursue. 

In  temples  sometimes  she  may  rest, 
In  lonely  groves,  away  from  men, 

There  bend  the  head,  by  heats  distrest, 
Nor  be  by  blows  awoke  again. 

Nature  is  kind,  and  God  is  kind, 
And,  if  she  had  not  had  a  heart, 

Only  that  great  discerning  mind, 
She  might  have  acted  well  her  part. 

But  oh  this  thirst,  that  none  can  still, 
•Save  those  unfounden  waters  free  j 

The  angel  of  my  life  should  fill 
And  soothe  me  to  Eternity  ! 

It  marks  the  defect  in  the  position  of  woman  that 
one  like  Mariana  should  have  found  reason  to  write 
thus.  To  a  man  of  equal. power,  equal  sincerity,  no 
more! — many  resources  would  have  presented  them 
selves/  He  would  not  have  needed  to  seek,  he  would 
have  been  called  by  life,. and  not  permitted  to  be 
quite  wrecked  through  the  affections  only.  But  such 
women  as  Mariana  are  often  lost,  unless  they  meet 
some  man  of  sufficiently  great  soul  to  prize  them. 


PHILIP    VAN    ARTEVELDE.  103 

Van  Artevelde's  Elena,  though  in  her  individual 
nature  unlike  my  Mariana,  is  like  her  in  a  mind 
whose  large  impulses  are  disproportioned  to  the  per 
sons  and  occasions  she  meets,  and  which  carry  her 
beyond  those  reserves  which  mark  the  appointed  lot 
of  woman.  But,  when  she  met  Van  Artevelde,  he  was 
too  great  not  to  revere  her  rare  nature,  without  re 
gard  to  the  stains  and  errors  of  its  past  history  ;  great 
enough  to  receive  her  entirely  and  make  a  new  life 
for  her ;  man  enough  to  be  a  lover  !  But  as  such 
men  come  not  so  often  as  once  an  age,  their  presence 
should  not  be  absolutely  needed  to  sustain  life. 

At  Chicago  I  read  again  Philip  Van  Artevelde, 
and  certain  passages  in  it  will  always  be  in  my  mind 
associated  with  the  deep  sound  of  the  lake,  as  heard 
in  the  night.  I  used  to  read  a  short  time  at  night, 
and  then...  open  the  blind  to  look  out.  The  moon 
would  be  full  upon  the  lake,  and  the  calm  breath, 
pure  light,  and  the  deep  voice  harmonized  well  with 
the  thought  of  the  Flemish  hero.  When  will  this 
country  have  such  a  man  ?  It  is  what  she  needs  ;  no 
thin  Idealist,  no  coarse  Realist,  but  a  man  whose  eye 
reads  the  heavens  while  his  feet  step  firmly  on  the 
ground,  and  his  hands  are  strong  and  dexterous  for 
the  use  of  human  implements.  A  man  religious,  virtu 
ous  and  —  sagacious  ;  a  man  of  universal  sympathies, 
but  self-possessed  ;  a  man  who  knows  the  region  of 
emotion,  though  he  is  not  its  slave  ;  a  man  to  whom  this 
world  is  no  mere  spectacle,  or  fleeting  shadow,  but  a 
great  solemn  game  to  be  played  with  good  heed,  for 
its  stakes  are  of  eternal  value,  yet -who,  if  his  own 
play  be  true,  heeds  not  what  he  loses  by  the  falsehood 


104  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

of  others.  A  man  who  hives  from  the  past,  yet 
knows  that  its  honey  can  but  moderately  avail  him ; 
whose  comprehensive  eye  scans  the  present,  neither 
infatuated  by  its  golden  lures,  nor  chilled  by  its  many 
ventures  ;  who  possesses  prescience,  as  the  wise  man 
must,  but  not  so  far  as  to  be  driven  mad  to-day  by 
the  gift  which  discerns  to-morrow.  When  there  is 
such  a  man  for  America,  the  thought  which  urges  her 
on  will  be  expressed. 

Now  that  I  am  about  to  leave  Illinois,  feelings  of 
regret  land  admiration  come  over  me,  as  in  parting 
with  a  friend  whom  we  have  not  had  the  good  sense 
to  prize  and  study,  while  hours  of  association,  never 
perhaps  to  return,  were  granted.  I  have  fixed  my 
attention  almost  exclusively  on  the  picturesque  beauty 
of  this  region ;  it  was  so  new,  so  inspiring.  But  I 
ought  to  have  been  more  interested  in  the  housekeep 
ing  of  this  magnificent  state,  in  the  education  she  is 
giving  her  children,  in  their  prospects. 

Illinois  is,  at  present,  a  by-word  of  reproach  among 
the  nations,  for  the  careless,  prodigal  course,  by  which, 
in  early  youth,  she  has  endangered  her  honor.  But 
you  cannot  look  about  you  there,  without  seeing  that 
there  are  resources  abundant  to  retrieve,  and  soon  to 
retrieve,  far  greater  errors,  if  they  are  only  directed 
with  wisdom. 

Might  the  simple  maxim,  that  honesty  is  the  best 
policy  be  laid  to  heart !  Might  a  sense  of  the  true 
aims  of  life  elevate  the  tone  of  politics  and  trade,  till 
public  and  private  honor  become  identical !  Might 
the  western  man  in  that  crowded  and  exciting  life 
which  develops  his  faculties  so  fully  for  to-day,  not 


^LORRIS    BIRKBECK.  105 

forget  that  better  part  which  could  not  be  taken  from 
him !  Might  the  western  woman  take  that  interest 
and  acquire  that  light  for  the  education  of  the  child* 
ren,  for  which  she  alone  has  leisure ! 

This  is  indeed  the  great  problem  of  the  place  and 
time.  If  the  next  generation  be  well  prepared  for 
their  work,  ambitious  of  good  and  skilful  to  achieve 
it,  the  children  of  the  present  settlers  may  be  leaven 
enough  for  the  mass  constantly  increasing  by  emigra 
tion.  And  how  much  is  this  needed  where  those 
rude  foreigners  can  so  Tittle  understand  the  best  in 
terests  of  the  land  they  seek  for  bread  and  shelter. 
It  would  be  a  happiness  to  aid  in  this  good  work,  and 
interweave  the  white  and  golden  threads  into  the 
fate  of  Illinois.  It  would  be  a  work  worthy  the  de 
votion  of  any  mind. 

In  the  little  that  I  saw,  was  a  large  proportion  of 
intelligence,  activity,  and  kind  feeling ;  but,  if  there 
was  much  serious  laying  to  heart  of  the  true  pur 
poses  of  life,  it  did  not  appear  in  the  tone  of  conver 
sation.  •  •• 

Having  before  me  the  Illinois  guide-book,  I  find 
there  mentioned,  as  a  "  visionary,"  one  of  the  men 
I  should  think  of  as  able  to  be  a  truly  valuable  set 
tler  in  a  new  and  great  country  —  Morris  Birkbeck, 
of  England.  Since  my  return,  I  have  read  his  jour 
ney  to,  and  letters  from,  Illinois.  I  see  nothing  pro 
mised  there  that  will  not  surely  belong  to  the  man 
who  knows  how  to  seek  for  it. 

Mr.  Birkbeck  was  an  enlightened  philanthropist, 
the  rather  that  he  did  not  wish  to  sacrifice  himself  to 
his  fellow  men,  but  to  benefit  them  with  all  he  had, 


106  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

and  was,  and  wished.  He  thought  all  the  creatures 
of  a  divine  love  ought  to  be  happy  and  ought  to  be 
good,  and  that  his  own  soul  and  his  own  life  were 
not  less  precious  than  those  of  others  ;  indeed,  that 
to  keep  these  healthy,  was  his  only  means  of  a  healthy 
influence. 

But  his  aims  were  altogether  generous.  Freedom, 
the  liberty  of  law,  not  license  ;  not  indolence,  work 
for  himself  and  children  and  all  men,  but  under  ge 
nial  and  poetic  influences ;  —  these  were  his  aims. 
How  different  from  those  of  the  new  settlers  in  gen 
eral  !  And  into  his  mind  so  long  ago  shone  steadily 
the  two  thoughts,  now  so  prevalent  in  thinking  and 
aspiring  minds,  of  "  Resist  not  evil,"  and  "  Every 
man  his  own  priest,  and  the  heart  the  only  true 
church." 

He  has  lost  credit  for  sagacity  from  accidental  cir 
cumstances.  It  does  not  appear  that  his  position  was 
ill  chosen,  or  his  means  disproportioned  to  his  ends, 
had  he  been  sustained  by  funds  from  England,  as  he 
had  a  right  to  expect.  But  through  the  profligacy  of 
a  near  relative,  commissioned  to  collect  these  dues, 
he  was  disappointed  of  them,  and  his  paper  protested 
and  credit  destroyed  in  our  cities,  before  he  became 
aware  of  his  danger. 

Still,  though  more  slowly  and  with  more  difficulty, 
he  might  have  succeeded  in  his  designs.  The  Eng 
lish  farmer  might  have  made  the  English  settlement 
a  model  for  good  methods  and  good  aims  to  all  that 
region,  had  not  death  prematurely  cut  short  his  plans. 

I  have  wished  to  say  these  few  words,  because  the 
veneration  with  which  I  have  been  inspired  for  his 


MORRIS    BIRKBECK.  107 

character  by  those  who  knew  him  well,  makes  me 
impatient  of  this  careless  blame  being  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth  and  book  to  book.  Success  is  no 
test  of  a  man's  endeavor,  and  Illinois  will  yet,  I  hope, 
regard  this  man,  who  knew  so  well  what  ought  to  be, 
as  one  of  her  true  patriarchs,  the  Abraham  of  a  pro 
mised  land. 

He  was  one  too  much  before  his  time  to  be  soon 
valued  ;  but  the  time  is  growing  up  to  him,  and  will 
understand  his  mild  philanthropy  and  clear,  large 
views. 

I  subjoin  the  account  of  his  death,  given  me  by  a 
friend,  as  expressing,  in  fair  picture,  the  character  of 
the  man. 

"  Mr.  Birkbeck  was  returning  from  the  seat  of 
government,  whither  he  had  been  on  public  business, 
and  was  accompanied  by  his  son  Bradford,  a  youth 
of  sixteen  or  eighteen.  It  was  necessary  to  cross  a 
ford,  which  was  rendered  difficult  by  the  swelling  of 
the  stream.  Mr.  B.'s  horse  was  unwilling  to  plunge 
into  the  water,  so  his  son  offered  to  go  first,  and  he 
followed.  Bradford's  horse  had  just  gained  footing 
on  the  opposite  shore,  when  he  looked  back  and  per 
ceived  his  father  was  dismounted,  struggling  in  the 
water,  and  carried  dpwn  by  the  current. 

"  Mr.  Birkbeck  could  not  swim  ;  Bradford  could  ; 
so  he  dismounted,  and  plunged  into  the  stream  to 
save  his  father.  He  got  to  him  before  he  sank,  held 
him  up  above  water,  and  told  him  to  take  hold  of  his 
collar,  and  he  would  swim  ashore  with  him.  Mr.  B. 
did  so,  and  Bradford  exerted  all  his  strength  to  stem 
the  current  and  reach  the  shore  at  a  point  where  they 


108-  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

could  land ;  but,  encumbered  by  his  own  clothing 
and  his  father's  weight,  he  made  no  progress;  and 
when  Mr.  B.  perceived  this,  he,  with  his  characteris 
tic  calmness  and  resolution,  gave  up  his  hold  of  his 
son,  and,  motioning  to  him  to  save  himself,  resigned 
himself  to  his.  fate.  His  son  reached  the  shore,  but 
was  too  much  overwhelmed  by  his  loss  to  leave  it. 
He  was  found  by  some  travellers,  many  hours  after, 
seated  on  the  margin  of  the  stream,  with  his  head  in 
his  hands,  stupefied  with  grief. 

"  The  body  was  found,  and  on  the  countenance 
was. the  sweetest  smile;  and  Bradford  said,  'just  so 
he  smiled  upon  me  when  he  let  go  and  pushed  me 
away  from  him.' 7 

Many  men  can  choose  the  right  and  best  on  a  great 
occasion,  but  not  many  can,  with  such  ready  and  se 
rene  decision,  lay  aside  even  life,  when  it  is  right  and 
best:  This  little  narrative  touched  my  imagination 
in  very  early  youth,  and  often  has  come  up,  in  lonely 
vision,  that  face,  serenely  smiling  above  the  current 
which  bore  him  away  to  another  realm  of  being. 


CHAPTER  V. 


WISCONSIN. 

A  TERRITORY,  not  yet  a  state  ;  still,  nearer  the  acorn 
than  we  were. 

It  was  very  pleasant  coming  up.  These  large  and 
elegant  boats  are  so  well  arranged  that  every  excur 
sion  may  be  a  party  of  pleasure.  There  are  many 
fair  shows  to  see  on  the  lake  and  its  shores,  almost 
always  new  and  agreeable  persons  on  board,  pretty 
children  playing  about,  ladies  singing,  (and  if  not 
very  well,  there  is  room  to  keep  out  of  the  way.) 
You  may  see  a  great  deal  here  of  Life,  in  the  Lon 
don  sense,  if  you  know  a  few  people ;  or  if  you  do 
not,  and  have  the  tact  to  look  about  you  without 
seeming  to  stare. 

We  came  to  Milwaukie,  where  we  were  to  pass  a 
fortnight  or  more. 

This  place  is  most  beautifully  situated.  A  little 
river,  with  romantic  banks,  passes  up  through  the 
town.  The  bank  of  the  lake  is  here  a  bold  bluff, 
eighty  feet  in  height.  From  its  summit,  you  enjoyed 
a  noble  outlook  on  the  lake.  A  little  narrow  path 
10 


110  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

wound  along  the  edge  of  the  lake  below.  I  liked 
this  walk  much.  Above  me  this  high  wall  of  rich 
earth,  garlanded  on  its  crest  with  trees,  the  long  ripples 
of  the  lake  coming  up  to  my  feet.  Here,  standing 
in  the  shadow,  I  could  appreciate  better  its  magnifi 
cent  changes  of  color,  which  are  the  chief  beauties 
of  the  lake-waters  ;  but  these  are  indescribable. 

It  was  fine  to  ascend  into  the  lighthouse,  above 
this  bluff,  and  watch  from  thence  the  thunder-clouds 
which  so  frequently  rose  over  the  lake,  or  the  great 
boats  coming  in.  Approaching  the  Milwaukie  pier, 
they  made  a  bend,  and  seemed  to  do  obeisance  in 
the  heavy  style  of  some  dowager  duchess  entering  a 
circle  she  wishes  to  treat  with  especial  respect. 

These  boats  come  in  and  out  every  day,  and  still 
afford  a  cause  for  general  excitement.  The  people 
swarm  down  to  greet  them,  to  receive  and  send  away 
their  packages  and  letters.  To  me  they  seemed  such 
mighty  messengers,  to  give,  by  their  noble  motion,  such 
an  idea  of  the  power  and  fullness  of  life,  that  they 
were  worthy  to  carry  despatches  from  king  to  king. 
It  must  be  very  pleasant  for  those  who  have  an  active 
share  in  carrying  on  the  affairs  of  this  great  and 
growing  world  to  see  them  come  in.  It  must  be 
very  pleasant  to  those  who  have  dearly  loved  friends 
at  the  next  station.  To  those  who  have  neither  busi 
ness  nor  friends,  it  sometimes  gives  a  desolating  sense 
of  insignificance. 

The  town  promises  to  be,  some  time,  a  fine  one,  as 
it  is  so  well  situated  ;  and  they  have  good  building 
material  —  a  yellow  brick,  very  pleasing  to  the  eye. 
It  seems  to  grow  before  you,  and  has  indeed  but  just 


Ill 


emerged  from  the  thickets  of  oak  and  wild  roses.  A 
few  steps  will  take  you  into  the  thickets,  and  certainly 
I  never  saw  so  many  wild  roses,  or  of  so  beautiful  a 
red.  Of  such  a  color  were  the  first  red  ones  the 
world  ever  saw,  when,  says  the  legend,  Venus  flying 
to  the  assistance  of  Adonis,  the  rosebushes  kept 
catching  her  to  make  her  stay,  and  the  drops  of  blood 
the  thorns  drew  from  her  feet,  as  she  tore  herself 
away,  fell  on  the  white  roses,  and  turned  them  this 
beautiful  red. 

I  will  here  insert,  though  with  no  excuse,  except 
that  it  came  to  memory  at  the  time,  this  description  of 
Titian's  Venus  and  Adonis. 

"  This  picture  has  that  perfect  balance  of  lines  and 
forms  that  it  would,  (as  was  said  of  all  Raphael's) 
(  seen  at  any  distance  have  the  air  of  an  ornamental 
design.'  It  also  tells  its  story  at  the  first  glance, 
though,  like  all  beautiful  works,  it  gains  by  study. 

"  On  one  side  slumbers  the  little  God  of  Love, 
as  an  emblem,  I  suppose,  that  only  the  love  of  man 
is  worth  embodying,  for  surely  Cytherea's  is  awake 
enough.  The  quiver  of  Cupid,  suspended  to  a  tree, 
gives  sportive  grace  to  the  scene  which  softens  the 
tragedy  of  a  breaking  tie.  The  dogs  of  Adonis  pull 
upon  his  hand ;  he  can  scarce  forbear  to  burst  from 
the  detaining  arms  of  Beauty  herself,  yet  he  waits  a 
moment  to  coax  her  —  to  make  an  unmeaning  pro 
mise.  '  A  moment,  a  moment,  my  love,  and  I  will 
return  ;  a  moment  only.'  Adonis  is  not  beautiful, 
except  in  his  expression  of  eager  youth.  The  Queen 
of  Beauty  does  not  choose  Apollo.  Venus  herself  is 
very  beautiful ;  especially  the  body  is  lovely  as  can 


112  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

be  ;  and  the  soft,  imploring  look,  gives  a  conjugal  del 
icacy  to  the  face  which  purifies  the  whole  picture. 
This  Venus  is  not  as  fresh,  as  moving  and  breathing 
as  Shakspeare's,  yet  lovelier  to  the  mind  if  not  to 
the  sense.  'T  is  difficult  to  look  at  this  picture  with 
out  indignation,  because  it  is,  in  one  respect,  so  true. 
Why  must  women  always  try  to  detain  and  restrain 
what  they  love  ?  Foolish  beauty ;  let  him  go ;  it  is 
thy  tenderness  that  has  spoiled  him.  Be  less  love 
ly  —  less  feminine  ;  abandon  thy  fancy  for  giving  thy 
self  wholly  ;  cease  to  love  so  well,  and  any  Hercules 
will  spin  among  thy  maids,  if  thou  wilt.  But  let  him 
go  this  time ;  thou  canst  not  keep  him.  Sit  there,  by 
thyself,  on  that  bank,  and,  instead  of  thinking  how 
soon  he  will  come  back,  think  how  thou  may'st  love 
him  no  better  than  he  does  thee,  for  the  time  has 
come." 

It  was  soon  after  this  moment  that  the  poor  Queen, 
hearing  the  frightened  hounds,  apprehended  the  rash 
huntsman's  danger,  and,  flying  through  the  woods, 
gave  their  hue  to  the  red  roses. 

To  return  from  the  Grecian  isles  to  Milwaukie. 
One  day,  walking  along  the  river's  bank  in  search  of 
a  waterfall  to  be  seen  from  one  ravine,  we  heard 
tones  from  a  band  of  music,  and  saw  a  gay  troop 
shooting  at  a  mark,  on  the  opposite  bank.  Between 
every  shot  the  band  played;  the  effect  was  very 
pretty. 

On  this  walk  we  found  two  of  the  oldest  and  most 
gnarled  hemlocks  that  ever  afforded  study  for  a 
painter.  They  were  the  only  ones  we  saw ;  they 
seemed  the  veterans  of  a  former  race. 


MILWAUKEE.  113 

At  Milwaukie,  as  at  Chicago,  are  many  pleasant 
people,  drawn  together  from  all  parts  of  the  world. 
A  resident  here  would  find  great  piquancy  in  the  as 
sociations,  —  those  he  met  having  such  dissimilar 
histories  and  topics.  And  several  persons  I  saw  evi 
dently  transplanted  from  the  most  refined  circles  to 
be  met  in  this  country.  There  are  lures  enough  in 
the  West  for  people  of  all  kinds  ;  —  the  enthusiast 
and  the  cunning  man ;  the  naturalist,  and  the  lover 
who  needs  to  be  rich  for  the  sake  of  her  he  loves. 

The  torrent  of  emigration  swells  very  strongly 
towards  this  place.  During  the  fine  weather,  the 
poor  refugees  arrive  daily,  in  their  national  dresses, 
all  travel-soiled  and  worn.  The  night  they  pass  in 
rude  shantees,  in  a  particular  quarter  of  the  town, 
then  walk  off  into  the  country  —  the  mothers  carry 
ing  their  infants,  the  fathers  leading  the  little  child 
ren  by  the  hand,  seeking  a  home  where  their  hands 
may  maintain  them. 

One  morning  we  set  off  in  their  track,  and  trav 
elled  a  day's  journey  into  this  country,  —  fair,  yet  not, 
in  that  part  which  I  saw,  comparable,  in  my  eyes,  to 
the  Rock  River  region.  It  alternates  rich  fields, 
proper  for  grain,  with  oak  openings,  as  they  are 
called ;  bold,  various  and  beautiful  were  the  features 
of  the  scene,  but  I  saw  not  those  majestic  sweeps, 
those  boundless  distances,  those  heavenly  fields ;  it 
was  not  the  same  world. 

Neither  did  we  travel  in  the  same  delightful  man 
ner.  We  were  now  in  a  nice  carriage,  which  must 
not  go  off  the  road,  for  fear  of  breakage,  with  a  regu 
lar  coachman,  whose  chief  care  was  not  to  tire  his 
10* 


114  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

horses,  and  who  had  no  taste  for  entering  fields  in 
pursuit  of  wild  flowers,  or  tempting  some  strange 
wood  path  in  search  of  whatever  might  befall.  It 
was  pleasant,  but  almost  as  tame  as  New  England. 

But  charming  indeed  was  the  place  where  we 
stopped.  It  was  in  the  vicinity  of  a  chain  of  lakes, 
and  on  the  bank  of  the  loveliest  little  stream,  called 
the  Bark  river,  which  flowed  in  rapid  amber  bright 
ness,  through  fields,  and  dells,  and  stately  knolls,  of 
most  idylic  beauty. 

The  little  log  cabin  where  we  slept,  with  its  flower 
garden  in  front,  disturbed  the  scene  no  more  than  a 
stray  lock  on  the  fair  cheek.  The  hospitality  of  that 
house  I  may  well  call  princely  ;  it  was  the  boundless 
hospitality  of  the  heart,  which,  if  it  has  no  Aladdin's 
lamp  to  create  a  palace  for  the  guest,  does  him  still 
higher  service  by  the  freedom  of  its  bounty  up  to  the 
very  last  drop  of  its  powers. 

Sweet  were  the  sunsets  seen  in  the  valley  of  this 
stream,  though  here,  and,  I  grieve  to  say,  no  less  near 
the  Rock  River,  the  fiend,  who  has  ever  liberty  to 
tempt  the  happy  in  this  world,  appeared  in  the  shape 
of  mosquitoes,  and  allowed  us  no  bodily  to  enjoy  our 
mental  peace. 

One  day  we  ladies  gave,  under  the  guidance  of  our 
host,  to  visiting  all  the  beauties  of  the  adjacent  lakes  — 
Nomabbin,  Silver,  and  Pine  Lakes.  On  the  shore  of 
Nomabbin  had  formerly  been  one  of  the  finest  In 
dian  villages.  Our  host  said  that,  one  day,  as  he  was 
lying  there  beneath  the  bank,  he  saw  a  tall  Indian 
standing  at  gaze  on  the  knoll.  He  lay  a  long  time, 
curious  to  see  how  long  the  figure  would  maintain  its 


INDIAN    ANECDOTE.  115 

statue-like  absorption.  But,  at  last,  his  patience 
yielded,  and,  in  moving,  he  made  a  slight  noise.  The 
Indian  saw  him,  gave  a  wild,  snorting  sound  of  in 
dignation  and  pain,  and  strode  away. 

What  feelings  must  consume  their  heart  at  such 
moments !  I  scarcely  see  how  they  can  forbear  to 
shoot  the  white  man  where  he  stands. 

But  the  power  of  fate  is  with  the  white  man,  and 
the  Indian  feels  it.  This  same  gentleman  told  of  his 
travelling  through  the  wilderness  with  an  Indian 
guide.  He  had  with  him  a  bottle  of  spirit  which  he 
meant  to  give  him  in  small  quantities,  but  the  Indian, 
once  excited,  wanted  the  whole  at  once.  I  would 

not,  said  Mr. ,  give  it  him,  for  I  thought  if  he 

got  really  drunk,  there  was  an  end  to  his  services  as 
a  guide.  But  he  persisted,  and  at  last  tried  to  take 
it  from  me.  I  was  not  armed  ;  he  was,  and  twice  as 
strong  as  I.  But  I  knew  an  Indian  could  not  resist 
the  look  of  a  white  man,  and  I  fixed  my  eye  steadily 
on  his.  He  bore  it  for  a  moment,  then  his  eye  fell ; 
he  let  go  the  bottle.  I  took  his  gun  and  threw  it  to 
a  distance.  After  a  few  moments'  pause,  I  told  him 
to  go  and  fetch  it,  and  left  it  in  his  hands.  From 
that  moment  he  was  quite  obedient,  even  servile,  all 
the  rest  of  the  way. 

This  gentleman,  though  in  other  respects  of  most 
kindly  and  liberal  heart,  showed  the  aversion  that  the 
white  man  soon  learns  to  feel  for  the  Indian  on  whom 
he  encroaches,  the  aversion  of  the  injurer  for  him  he 
has  degraded.  After  telling  the  anecdote  of  his  see 
ing  the  Indian  gazing  at  the  seat  of  his  former  home. 

"  A  thing  for  human  feelings  the  most  trying," 


116  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

and  which,  one  would  think,  would  have  awakened 
soft  compassion  —  almost  remorse  —  in  the  present 
owner  of  that  fair  hill,  which  contained  for  the  exile 
the  bones  of  his  dead,  the  ashes  of  his  hopes,  —  he 
observed,  "  They  cannot  be  prevented  from  strag 
gling  back  here  to  their  old  haunts.  I  wish  they 
could.  They  ought  not  to  permitted  to  drive  away 
our  game."  OUR  game  — just  heavens  ! 

The  same  gentleman  showed,  on  a  slight  occasion, 
the  true  spirit  of  the  sportsman,  or,  perhaps  I  might 
say  of  Man,  when  engaged  in  any  kind  of  chase. 
Showing  us  some  antlers,  he  said,  "  This  one  be 
longed  to  a  majestic  creature.  But  this  other  was 
the  beauty.  I  had  been  lying  a  long  time  at  watch, 
when  at  last  I  heard  them  come  crackling  along.  I 
lifted  my  head  cautiously,  as  they  burst  through  the 
trees.  The  first  was  a  magnificent  fellow ;  but  then 
I  saw  coming  one,  the  prettiest,  the  most  graceful  I 
ever  beheld  —  there  was  something  so  soft  and  be 
seeching  in  its  look.  I  chose  him  at  once  ;  took  aim, 
and  shot  him  dead.  You  see  the  antlers  are  not  very 
large  ;  it  was  young,  but  the  prettiest  creature  !  " 

In  the  course  of  this  morning's  drive,  we  visited 
the  gentlemen  on  their  fishing  party.  They  hailed 
us  gaily,  and  rowed  ashore  to  show  us  what  fine 
booty  they  had.  No  disappointment  there,  no  dull 
work.  On  the  beautiful  point  of  land  from  which 
we  first  saw  them,  lived  a  contented  woman,  the  only 
one  I  heard  of  out  there.  She  was  English,  and 
said  she  had  seen  so  much  suffering  in  her  own  coun 
try  that  the  hardships  of  this  seemed  as  nothing  to  her. 
But  the  others  —  even  our  sweet  and  gentle  hos- 


WOODS.  117 

tess  —  found  their  labors  disproportioned  to  their 
strength,  if  not  to  their  patience  ;  and,  while  their 
husbands  and  brothers  enjoyed  the  country  in  hunt 
ing  or  fishing,  they  found  themselves  confined  to  a 
comfortless  and  laborious  indoor  life.  But  it  need 
not  be  so  long. 

This  afternoon,  driving  about  on  the  banks  of  these 
lakes,  we  found  the  scene  all  of  one  kind  of  loveli 
ness  ;  wide,  graceful  woods,  and  then  these  fine  sheets 
of  water,  with  fine  points  of  land  jutting  out  boldly 
into  them.  It  was  lovely,  but  not  striking  or  pecu 
liar. 

All  woods  suggest  pictures.  The  European  forest, 
with  its  long  glades  and  green  sunny  dells,  naturally 
suggested  the  figures  of  armed  knight  on  his  proud 
steed,  or  maiden,  decked  in  gold  and  pearl,  pricking 
along  them  on  a  snow  white  palfrey.  The  green  dells, 
of  weary  Palmer  sleeping  there  beside  the  spring  with 
his  head  upon  his  wallet.  Our  minds,  familiar  with 
such  figures,  people  with  them  the  New  England 
woods,  wherever  the  sunlight  falls  down  a  longer 
than  usual  cart-track,  wherever  a  cleared  spot  has 
lain  still  enough  for  the  trees  to  look  friendly,  with 
their  exposed  sides  cultivated  by  the  light,  and  the 
grass  to  look  velvet  warm,  and  be  embroidered  with 
flowers.  These  western  woods  suggest  a  different  kind 
of  ballad.  The  Indian  legends  have,  often,  an  air  of 
the  wildest  solitude,  as  has  the  one  Mr.  Lowell  has 
put  into  verse,  in  his  late  volume.  But  I  did  not  see 
those  wild  woods  ;  only  such  as  suggest  little  roman 
ces  of  love  and  sorrow,  like  this  : 


118  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

A  maiden  sat  beneath  the  tree, 
Tear-bedewed  her  pale  cheeks  be, 
And  she  sigheth  heavily. 

From  forth  the  wood  into  the  light, 
A  hunter  strides  with  carol  light, 
And  a  glance  so  bold  and  bright. 

He  careless  stopped  and  eyed  the  maid  ; 
"•  Why  weepest  thou  ?  "  he  gently  said, 
"  I  love  thee  well  ;  be  not  afraid." 

He  takes  her  hand,  and  leads  her  on  ; 
She  should  have  waited  there  alone, 
For  he  was  not  her  chosen  one. 

He  leans  her  head  upon  his  breast, 
She  knew  't  was  not  her  home  of  rest, 
But  ah !  she  had  been  sore  distrest. 

The  sacred  stars  looked  sadly  down  ; 
The  parting  moon  appeared  to  frown, 
To  see  thus  dimmed  the  diamond  crown. 

Then  from  the  thicket  starts  a  deer, 
The  huntsman,  seizing  on  his  spear, 
Cries,  "  Maiden,  wait  thou  for  me  here." 

She  sees  him  vanish  into  night, 

She  starts  from  sleep  in  deep  affright, 

For  it  was  not  her  own  true  knight. 

Though  but  in  dream  Gunhilda  failed  j 
Though  but  a  fancied  ill  assailed, 
Though  she  but  fancied  fault  bewailed. 


INDIAN    ENCAMPMENT.  119 

Yet  thought  of  day  makes  dream  of  night  : 
She  is  not  worthy  of  the  knight, 
The  inmost  altar  burns  not  bright. 

If  loneliness  thou  canst  not  bear, 
Cannot  the  dragon's  venom  dare, 
Of  the  pure  meed  thou  shouldst  despair. 

Now  sadder  that  lone  maiden  sighs, 
Far  bitterer  tears  profane  her  eyes, 
Crushed  in  the  dust  her  heart's  flower  lies. 

On  the  bank  of  Silver  Lake  we  saw  an  Indian  en 
campment.  A  shower  threatened  us,  but  we  resolved 
to  try  if  we  could  not  visit  it  before  it  came  on. 
We  crossed -a  wide  field  on  foot,  and  found  them 
amid  the  trees  on  a  shelving  bank  ;  just  as  we  reached 
them  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents,  with  frequent 
thunder  claps,  and  we  had  to  take  refuge  in  their 
lodges.  These  Were  very  small,  being  for  temporary 
use.,  and  we  crowded  the  occupants  much,  among 
whom  were  several  sick,  on  the  damp  ground,  or 
with  only  a  ragged  mat  between  them  and  it.  But 
they  showed  all  the  gentle  courtesy  which  marks  them 
towards  the  stranger,  who  stands  in  any  need ;  though 
it  was  obvious  that  the  visit,  which  inconvenienced 
them,  could  only  have  been  caused  by  the  most  im 
pertinent  curiosity,  they  made  us  as  comfortable  as 
their  extreme  poverty  permitted.  They  seemed  to 
think  we  would  not  like  to  touch  them  :  a  sick  girl 
in  the  lodge  where  I  was,  persisted  in  moving  so  as  to 
give  me  the  dry  place  ;  a  woman  with  the  sweet 
melancholy  eye  of  the  race,  kept  off  the  children  >and 
wet  dogs  from  even  the  hem  of  my  garment. 


120  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

Without,  their  fires  smouldered,  and  black  kettles, 
hung  over  them  on  sticks,  smoked  and  seethed  in  the 
rain.  An  old  theatrical  looking  Indian  stood  with 
arms  folded,  looking  up  to  the  heavens,  from  which 
the  rain  dashed  and  the  thunder  reverberated  ;  his 
air  was  French-Roman,  that  is,  more  romanesque  than 
Roman.  The  Indian  ponies,  much  excited,  kept  career 
ing  through  the  wood,  around  the  encampment,  and 
now  and  then  halting  suddenly,  would  thrust  in  their 
intelligent,  though  amazed,  phizzes,  as  if  to  ask  their 
masters  when  this  awful  pother  would  cease,  and  then, 
after  a  moment,  rush  and  trample  off  again. 

At  last  we  got  off,  well  wetted,  but  with  a  pictur 
esque  scene  for  memory.  At  a  house  where  we 
stopped  to  get  dry,  they  told  us  that  this  wandering 
band  (of  Pottawattamies,)  who  had  returned  on  a 
visit,  either  from  homesickness,  or  need  of  relief, 
were  extremely  destitute.  The  women  had  been 
there  to  see  if  they  could  barter  their  head  bands 
with  which  they  club  their  hair  behind  into  a  form 
not  unlike  a  Grecian  knot,  for  food.  They  seemed, 
indeed,  to  have  neither  food,  utensils,  clothes,  nor 
bedding  ;  nothing  but  the  ground,  the  sky,  and  their 
own  strength.  Little  wonder  if  they  drove  off  the 
game  ! 

Part  of  the  same  band  I  had  seen  in  Milwaukie,  on 
a  begging  dance.  The  effect  of  this  was  wild  and 
grotesque.  They  wore  much  paint  and  feather 
head-dresses.  "  Indians  without  paint  are  poor 
coots,"  said  a  gentleman  who  had  been  a  great  deal 
with,  and  really  liked,  them ;  and  I  like  the  effect  of 
the  paint  on  them  ;  it  reminds  of  the  gay  fantasies 


MIL  W  AUK  IE.  121 

of  nature.  With  them  in  Milwaukie,  was  a  chief,  the 
finest  Indian  figure  I  saw,  more  than  six  feet  in  height, 
erect,  and  of  a  sullen,  but  grand  gait  and  gesture. 
He  wore  a  deep  red  blanket,  which  fell  in  large  folds 
from  his  shoulders  to  his  feet,  did  not  join  in  the 
dance,  but  slowly  strode  about  through  the  streets, 
a  fine  sight,  not  a  French-Roman,  but  a  real  Roman. 
He  looked  unhappy,  but  listlessly  unhappy,  as  if  he 
felt  it  was  of  no  use  to  strive  or  resist. 

While  in  the  neighborhood  of  these  lakes,  we  visit 
ed  also  a  foreign  settlement  of  great  interest.  Here 
were  minds,  it  seemed,  to  "  comprehend  the  trusts," 
of  their  new  life  ;  and  if  they  can  only  stand  true  to 
them,  will  derive  and  bestow  great  benefits  therefrom. 

But  sad  and  sickening  to  the  enthusiast  who  comes 
to  these  shores,  hoping  the  tranquil  enjoyment  of  in 
tellectual  blessings,  and  the  pure  happiness  of  mutual 
love,  must  be  a  part  of  the  scene  that  he  encounters  at 
first.  He  has  escaped  from  the  heartlessness  of 
courts,  to  encounter  the  vulgarity  of  a  mob ;  he  has 
secured  solitude,  but  it  is  a  lonely,  a  deserted  solitude. 
Amid  the  abundance  of  nature  he  cannot,  from  petty, 
but  insuperable  obstacles,  procure,  for  a  long  time, 
comforts,  or  a  home. 

But  let  him  come  sufficiently  armed  with  patience 
to  learn  the  new  spells  which  the  new  dragons  re 
quire,  (and  this  can  only  be  done  on  the  spot,)  he 
will  not  finally  be  disappointed  of  the  promised  treas 
ure  ;  the  mob  will  resolve  itself  into  men,  yet  crude, 
but  of  good  dispositions,  and  capable  of  good  charac 
ter  ;  the  solitude  will  become  sufficiently  enlivened 
and  home  grow  up  at  last  from  the  rich  sod. 
11 


122  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

In  this  transition  state  we  found  one  of  these 
homes.  As  we  approached  it  seemed  the  very  Eden 
which  earth  might  still  afford  to  a  pair  willing  to 
give  up  the  hackneyed  pleasures  of  the  world,  for  a 
better  and  more  intimate  communion  with  one  another 
and  with  beauty  :  the  wild  road  led  through  wide 
beautiful  woods,  to  the  wilder  and  more  beautiful 
shores  of  the  finest  lake  we  saw.  On  its  waters, 
glittering  in  the  morning  sun,  a  few  Indians  were 
paddling  to  and  fro  in  their  light  canoes.  On  one  of 
those  fair  knolls  I  have  so  often  mentioned,  stood  the 
cottage,  beneath  trees  which  stooped  as  if  they  yet 
felt  brotherhood  with  its  roof  tree.  Flowers  waved, 
birds  fluttered  round,  all  had  the  sweetness  of  a 
happy  seclusion  ;  all  invited  on  entrance  to  cry, 
All  hail  ye  happy  ones  !  to  those  who  inhabited  it. 

But  on  entrance  to  those  evidently  rich  in  personal 
beauty,  talents,  love,  and  courage,  the  aspect  of 
things  was  rather  sad.  Sickness  had  been  with  them, 
death,  care,  and  labor  ;  these  had  not  yet  blighted 
them,  but  had  turned  their  gay  smiles  grave.  It 
seemed  that  hope  and  joy  had  given  place  to  reso 
lution.  How  much,  too,  was  there  in  them,  worthless 
in  this  place,  which  would  have  been  so  valuable  else 
where.  Refined  graces,  cultivated  powers,  shine  in 
vain  before  field  laborers,  as  laborers  are  in  this  pre 
sent  world  ;  you  might  as  well  cultivate  heliotropes 
to  present  to  an  ox.  Oxen  and  heliotropes  are  both 
good,  but  not  for  one  another. 

With  them  were  some  of  the  old  means  of  enjoy 
ment,  the  books,  the  pencil,  the  guitar  ;  but  where  the 
wash-tub  and  the  axe  are  so  constantly  in  requisition, 


THE    COTTAGE.  123 

there   is   not   much  time   and   pliancy  of  hand  for 
these. 

In  the  inner  room  the  master  of  the  house  was 
seated  ;  he  had  been  sitting  there  long,  for  he  had 
injured  his  foot  on  ship-board,  and  his  farming  had  to 
be  done  by  proxy.  His  beautiful  young  wife  was  his 
only  attendant  and  nurse,  as  well  as  a  farm  house 
keeper  ;  how  well  she  performed  hard  and  unac 
customed  duties,  the  objects  of  her  care  shewed  ; 
everything  that  belonged  to  the  house  was  rude  but 
neatly  arranged  ;  the  invalid,  confined  to  an  uneasy 
wooden  chair,  (they  had  not  been  able  to  induce  any 
one  to  bring  them  an  easy  chair  from  the  town,)  look 
ed  as  neat  and  elegant  as  if  he  had  been  dressed  by 
the  valet  of  a  duke.  He  was  of  northern  blood,  with 
clear  full  blue  eyes,  calm  features,  a  tempering  of  the 
soldier,  scholar,  and  man  of  the  world,  in  his  aspect  ; 
whether  that  various  intercourses  had  given  himself 
that  thorough-bred  look  never  seen  in  Americans,  or 
that  it  was  inherited  from  a  race  who  had  known  all 
these  disciplines.  He  formed  a  great  but  pleasing 
contrast  to  his  wife,  whose  glowing  complexion  and 
dark  mellow  eye  bespoke  an  origin  in  some  climate 
more  familiar  with  the  sun.  He  looked  as  if  he  could 
sit  there  a  great  while  patiently,  and  live  on  his  own 
mind,  biding  his  time  ;  she,  as  if  she  could  bear  any 
thing  for  affection's  sake,  but  would  feel  the  weight 
of  each  moment  as  it  passed. 

Seeing  the  album  full  of  drawings  and  verses 
which  bespoke  the  circle  of  elegant  and  affectionate 
intercourse  they  had  left  behind,  we  could  not  but  see 
that  the  young  wife  sometimes  must  need  a  sister,  the 


124  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

husband  a  companion,  and  both  must  often  miss  that 
electricity  which  sparkles  from  the  chain  of  congenial 
minds. 

For  man,  a  position  is  desirable  in  some  degree 
proportioned  to  his  education.  Mr.  Birkbeck  was 
bred  a  farmer,  but  these  were  nurslings  of  the  court 
and  city  ;  they  may  persevere,  for  an  affectionate 
courage  shone  in  their  eyes,  and,  if  so,  become  true 
lords  of  the  soil,  and  informing  geniuses  to  those 
around  ;  then,  perhaps,  they  will  feel  that  they  have 
not  paid  too  dear  for  the  tormented  independence  of 
the  new  settler's  life.  But,  generally,  damask  roses 
will  not  thrive  in  the  wood,  and  a  ruder  growth,  if 
healthy  and  pure,  we  wish  rather  to  see  there. 

I  feel  very  differently  about  these  foreigners  from 
Americans  ;  American  men  and  women  are  inexcusable 
if  they  do  not  bring  up  children  so  as  to  be  fit  for  vicissi 
tudes  ;  that  is  the  meaning  of  our  star,  that  here  all  men 
being  free  and  equal,  all  should  be  fitted  for  freedom 
and  an  independence  by  his  own  resources  wherever 
the  changeful  wave  of  our  mighty  stream  may  take 
him.  But  the  star  of  Europe  brought  a  different 
horoscope,  and  to  mix  destinies  breaks  the  thread  of 
both.  The  Arabian  horse  will  not  plough  well,  nor 
can  the  plough-horse  be  rode  to  play  the  jereed.  But 
a  man  is  a  man  wherever  he  goes,  and  something 
precious  cannot  fail  to  be  gained  by  one  who  knows 
how  to  abide  by  a  resolution  of  any  kind,  and  pay 
the  cost  without  a  murmur. 

Returning,  the  fine  carriage  at  last  fulfilled  its 
threat  of  breaking  down.  We  took  refuge  in  a  farm 
house.  Here  was  a  pleasant  scene.  A  rich  and 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         125 

beautiful  estate,  several  happy  families,  who  had  re 
moved  together,  and  formed  a  natural  community, 
ready  to  help  and  enliven  one  another.  They  were 
farmers  at  home,  in  western  New  York,  and  both 
men  and  women  knew  how  to  work.  Yet  even  here 
the  women  did  not  like  the  change,  but  they  were 
willing,  "  as  it  might  be  best  for  the  young  folks." 
Their  hospitality  was  great,  the  housefull  of  women 
and  pretty  children  seemed  all  of  one  mind. 

Returning  to  Milwaukie  much  fatigued,  I  enter 
tained  myself  for  a  day  or  two  with  reading.  The 
book  I  had  brought,  with  me  was  in  strong  contrast 
with  the  life  around  me.  Very  strange  was  this 
vision  of  an  exalted  and  sensitive  existence,  which 
seemed  to  invade  the  next  sphere,  in  contrast  with 
the  spontaneous,  instinctive  life,  so  healthy  and  so 
near  the  ground  I  had  been  surveying.  This  was 
the  German  book  entitled  : 

Die  Scherin  von  Prevorst.  —  Eroffnungen  iiber  das 
innere  Leben  des  Menschen  und  iiber  das  hereinragen 
einer  Geisterwelt  in  die  unsere.  Mitgetheilt  von  Jus- 
tinus  Kerner. 

The  Seeress  of  Prevorst. — Revelations  concerning 
the  inward  life  of  man,  and  the  projection  of  a  world 
of  spirits  into  ours,  communicated  by  Justinus  Kerner. 

This  book,  published  in  Germany  some  twelve  years 
since,  and  which  called  forth  there  plenteous  dews  of 
admiration,  as  plenteous  hail-storms  of  jeers  and  scorns, 
I  never  saw  mentioned  till  some  year  or  two  since,  in 
any  English  publication.  Then  a  playful,  but  not 
sarcastic  account  of  it,  in  the  Dublin  Magazine,  so  far 
excited  my  curiosity  that  I  procured  the  book  intend- 
11* 


126  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

ing  to  read  it  so  soon  as  I  should  have  some  leisure 
days,  such  as  this  journey  has  afforded. 

Dr.  Kerner,  its  author,  is  a  man  of  distinction  in 
his  native  land,  both  as  a  physician  and  a  thinker, 
though  always  on  the  side  of  reverence,  marvel,  and 
mysticism.  He  was  known  to  me  only  through  two 
or  three  little  poems  of  his  in  Catholic  legends,  which 
I  much  admired  for  the  fine  sense  they  showed  of  the 
beauty  of  symbols. 

He  here  gives  a  biography,  mental  and  physical,  of 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  cases  of  high  nervous  ex 
citement  that  the  age,  so  interested  in  such,  yet 
affords,  with  all  its  phenomena  of  clairvoyance  and 
susceptibility  of  magnetic  influences.  I  insert  some 
account  of  this  biography  at  the  request  of  many  who 
have  been  interested  by  slight  references  to  it.  The 
book,  a  thick  and  heavy  volume,  written  with  true 
German  patience,  some  would  say  clumsiness,  has 
not,  probably,  and  may  not  be  translated  into  other 
languages.  As  to  my  own  mental  position  on  these 
subjects  it  may  be  briefly  expressed  by  a  dialogue  be 
tween  several  persons  who  honor  me  with  a  portion 
of  friendly  confidence  and  of  criticism,  and  myself 
expressed  as  Free  Hope.  The  others  may  be  styled 
Old  Church,  Good  Sense,  and  Self-Poise. 

Good  Sense.  I  wonder  you  can  take  any  interest  in 
such  observations  or  experiments.  Don't  you  see  how 
almost  impossible  it  is  to  make  them  with  any  exact 
ness,  how  entirely  impossible  to  know  anything  about 
them  unless  made  by  yourself,  when  the  least  leaven 
of  credulity,  excited  fancy,  to  say  nothing  of  willing 


FREE    HOPE.  127 

or  careless  imposture,  spoils  the  whole  loaf.  Beside, 
allowing  the  possibility  of  some  clear  glimpses  into  a 
higher  state  of  being,  what  do  we  want  of  it  now  ? 
All  around  us  lies  what  we  neither  understand  nor 
use.  Our  capacities,  our  instincts  for  this  our  present 
sphere  are  but  half  developed.  Let  us  confine  our 
selves  to  that  till  the  lesson  be  learned  ;  let  us  be  com 
pletely  natural,  before  we  trouble  ourselves  with  the 
supernatural.  I  never  see  any  of  these  things  but  I 
long  to  get  away  and  lie  under  a  green  tree  and  let 
the  wind  blow  on  me.  There  is  marvel  and  charm 
enough  in  that  for  me. 

Free  Hope.  And  for  me  also.  Nothing  is  truer 
than  the  Wordsworthian  creed,  on  which  Carlyle  lays 
such  stress,  that  we  need  only  look  on  the  miracle  of 
every  day,  to  sate  ourselves  with  thought  and  admira 
tion  every  day.  But  how  are  our  faculties  sharpened 
to  do  it  ?  Precisely  by  apprehending  the  infinite  re 
sults  of  every  day. 

Who  sees  the  meaning  of  the  flower  uprooted  in 
the  ploughed  field  ?  The  ploughman  who  does  not 
look  beyond  its  boundaries  and  does  not  raise  his 
eyes  from  the  ground  ?  No  —  but  the  poet  who 
sees  that  field  in  its  relations  with  the  universe,  and 
looks  oftener  to  the  sky  than  on  the  ground.  Only 
the  dreamer  shall  understand  realities,  though,  in 
truth,  his  dreaming  must  not  be  out  of  proportion 
to  his  waking  ! 

The  mind,  roused  powerfully  by  this  existence, 
stretches  of  itself  into  what  the  French  sage  calls  the 
"  aromal  state."  From  the  hope  thus  gleaned  it  forms 
the  hypothesis,  under  whose  banner  it  collects  its  facts. 


128  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

Long  before  these  slight  attempts  were  made  to 
establish  as  a  science  what  is  at  present  called  animal 
magnetism,  always,  in  fact  men  were  occupied  more 
or  less  with  this  vital  principle,  principle  of  flux  and 
influx,  dynamic  of  our  mental  mechanics,  human 
phase  of  electricity.  Poetic  observation  was  pure, 
there  was  no  quackery  in  its  free  course,  as  there  is 
so  often  in  this  wilful  tampering  with  the  hidden 
springs  of  life,  for  it  is  tampering  unless  done  in  a 
patient  spirit  and  with  severe  truth ;  yet  it  may  be,  by 
the  rude  or  greedy  miners,  some  good  ore  is  unearthed. 
And  some  there  are  who  work  in  the  true  temper, 
patient  and  accurate  in  trial,  not  rushing  to  conclu 
sions,  feeling  there  is  a  mystery,  not  eager  to  call  it 
by  name,  till  they  can  know  it  as  a  reality  :  such  may 
learn,  such  may  teach. 

Subject  to  the  sudden  revelations,  the  breaks  in 
habitual  existence  caused  by  the  aspect  of  death,  the 
touch  of  love,  the  flood  of  music,  I  never  lived,  that 
I  remember,  what  you  call  a  common  natuial  day. 
All  my  days  are  touched  by  the  supernatural,  for  I 
feel  the  pressure  of  hidden  causes,  and  the  presence, 
sometimes  the  communion,  of  unseen  powers.  It 
needs  not  that  I  should  ask  the  clairvoyant  whether 
"  a  spirit-world  projects  into  ours."  As  to  the  spe 
cific  evidence,  I  would  not  tarnish  my  mind  by  hasty 
reception.  The  mind  is  not,  I  know,  a  highway, 
but  a  temple,  and  its  doors  should  not  be  care 
lessly  left  open.  Yet  it  were  sin,  if  indolence 
or  coldness  excluded  what  had  a  claim  to  enter ; 
and  I  doubt  whether,  in  the  eyes  of  pure  intelli 
gence,  an  ill-grounded  hasty  rejection  be  not  a 


OLD    CHURCH.  129 

greater  sign  of  weakness  than  an  ill-grounded  and 
hasty  faith 

I  will  quote,  as  my  best  plea,  the  saying  of  a  man 
old  in  years,  but  not  in  heart,  and  whose  long  life  has 
been  distinguished  by  that  clear  adaptation  of  means  to 
ends  which  gives  the  credit  of  practical  wisdom.  He 
wrote  to  his  child,  "  I  have  lived  too  long,  and  seen  too 
much  to  be  incredulous."  Noble  the  thought,  no 
less  so  its  frank  expression,  instead  of  saws  of  cau 
tion,  mean  advices,  and  other  modern  instances. 
Such  was  the  romance  of  Socrates  when  he  bade  his 
disciples  "  sacrifice  a  cock  to  ./Esculapius." 

Old  Church.  You  are  always  so  quick-witted  and 
voluble,  Free  Hope,  you  don't  get  time  to  see  how 
often  you  err,  and  even,  perhaps,  sin  and  blaspheme. 
The  Author  of  all  has  intended  to  confine  our  knowl 
edge  within  certain  boundaries,  has  given  us  a  short 
span  of  time  for  a  certain  probation,  for  which  our 
faculties  are  adapted.  By  wild  speculation  and  in 
temperate  curiosity  we  violate  his  will  and  incur  dan 
gerous,  perhaps  fatal,  consequences.  We  waste  our 
powers,  and,  becoming  morbid  and  visionary,  are  un 
fitted  to  obey  positive  precepts,  and  perform  positive 
duties. 

Free  Hope.  I  do  not  see  how  it  is  possible  to  go 
further  beyond  the  results  of  a  limited  human  expe 
rience  than  those  do  who  pretend  to  settle  the  origin 
and  nature  of  sin,  the  final  destiny  of  souls,  and  the 
whole  plan  of  the  causal  spirit  with  regard  to  them. 
I  think  those  who  take  your  view,  have  not  examined 
themselves,  and  do  not  know  the  ground  on  which 
they  stand. 


130  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

I  acknowledge  no  limit,  set  up  by  man's  opinion, 
as  to  the  capacities  of  man.  "  Care  is  taken,"  I  see 
it,  "  that  the  trees  grow  not  up  into  heaven,"  but,  to 
me  it  seems,  the  more  vigorously  they  aspire  the  bet 
ter.  Only  let  it  be  a  vigorous,  not  a  partial  or  sickly 
aspiration.  Let  not  the  tree  forget  its  root. 

So  long  as  the  child  insists  on  knowing  where  its 
dead  parent  is,  so  long  as  bright  eyes  weep  at  myste 
rious  pressures,  too  heavy  for  the  life,  so  long  as  that 
impulse  is  constantly  arising  which  made  the  Roman 
emperor  address  his  soul  in  a  strain  of  such  touching 
softness,  vanishing  from  the  thought,  as  the  column  of 
smoke  from  the  eye,  I. know  of  no  inquiry  which  the 
impulse  of  man  suggests  that  is  forbidden  to  the  res 
olution  of  man  to  pursue.  In  every  inquiry,  unless 
sustained  by  a  pure  and  reverent  spirit,  he  gropes  in 
the  dark,  or  falls  headlong. 

Self-Poise.  All  this  may  be  very  true,  but  what 
is  the  use  of  all  this  straining  ?  Far-sought  is  dear- 
bought.  When  we  know  that  all  is  in  each,  and  that 
the  ordinary  contains  the  extraordinary,  why  should 
we  play  the  baby,  and  insist  upon  having  the  moon 
for  a  toy  when  a  tin  dish  will  do  as  well.  Our  deep 
ignorance  is  a  chasm  that  we  can  only  fill  up  by  de 
grees,  but  the  commonest  rubbish  will  help  us  as 
well  as  shred  silk.  The  God  Brahma,  while  on 
earth,  was  set  to  fill  up  a  valley,  but  he  had  only  a 
basket  given  him  in  which  to  fetch  earth  .for  this  pur 
pose  ;  so  is  it  with  us  all.  No  leaps,  no  starts  will 
avail  us,  by  patient  crystallization  alone  the  equal 
temper  of  wisdom- is  attainable.  Sit  at  home  and  the 
spirit-world  will  look  in  at  your  window  with  moonlit 


SELF-POISE.  131 

eyes ;  run  out  to  find  it,  and  rainbow  and  golden  cup 
will  have  vanished  and  left  you  the  beggarly  child  you 
were.  The  better  part  of  wisdom  is  a  sublime  pru 
dence,  a  pure  and  patient  truth  that  will  receive  no 
thing  it  is  not  sure  it  can  permanently  lay  to  heart. 
Of  our  study  there  should  be  in  proportion  two-thirds 
of  rejection  to  one  of  acceptance.  And,  amid  the 
manifold  infatuations  and  illusions  of  this  world  of 
emotion,  a  being  capable  of  clear  intelligence  can  do 
no  better  service  than  to  hold  himself  upright,  avoid 
nonsense,  and  do  what  chores  lie  in  his  way,  acknowl 
edging  every  moment  that  primal  truth,  which  no  fact 
exhibits,  nor,  if  pressed  by  too  warm  a  hope,  will  even 
indicate.  I  think,  indeed,  it  is  part  of  our  lesson  to 
give  a  formal  consent  to  what  is  farcical,  and  to  pick 
up  our  living  and  our  Virtue  amid  what  is  so  ridicu 
lous,  hardly  deigning  a  smile,  and  certainly  not  vexed. 
The  work  is  done  through  all,  if  not  by  every  one. 

Free  Hope.  Thou  art  greatly  wise,  my  friend,  and 
ever  respected  by  me,  yet  I  find  not  in  your  theory 
or  your  scope,  room  enough  for  the  lyric  inspirations, 
or  the  mysterious  whispers  of  life.  To  me  it  seems 
that  it  is  madder  never  to  abandon  oneself,  than  often 
to  be  infatuated  ;  better  to  be  wounded,  a  captive,  and 
a  slave,  than  always  to  walk  in  armor.  As  to  mag 
netism,  that  is  only  a  matter  of  fancy.  You  some 
times  need  just  such  a  field  in  which  to  wander  va 
grant,  and  if  it  bear  a  higher  name,  yet  it  may  be 
that,  in  last  result,  the  trance  of  Pythagoras  might 
be  classed  with  the  more  infantine  transports  of  the 
Seeress  of  Prevorst. 

What   is  done   interests  me  more  than  what  is 


132  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

thought  and  supposed.  Every  fact  is  impure,  but 
every  fact  contains  in  it  the  juices  of  life.  Every 
fact  is  a  clod,  from  which  may  grow  an  amaranth  or 
a  palm. 

Do  you  climb  the  snowy  peaks  from  whence  come 
the  streams,  where  the  atmosphere  is  rare,  where  you 
can  see  the  sky  nearer,  from  which  you  can  get  a 
commanding  view  of  the  landscape.  I  see  great  dis 
advantages  as  well  as  advantages  in  this  dignified  po 
sition.  I  had  rather  walk  myself  through  all  kinds  of 
places,  even  at  the  risk  of  being  robbed  in  the  forest, 
half  drowned  at  the  ford,  and  covered  with  dust  in 
the  street. 

I  would  beat  with  the  living  heart  of  the  world, 
and  understand  all  the  moods,  even  the  fancies  or 
fantasies,  of  nature.  I  dare  to  trust  to  the  interpret 
ing  spirit  to  bring  me  out  all  right  at  last  —  to  estab 
lish  truth  through  error. 

Whether  this  be  the  best  way  is  of  no  consequence, 
if  it  be  the  one  individual  character  points  out. 

For  one,  like  me,  it  would  be  vain 

From  glittering  heights  the  eyes  to  strain ; 

I  the  truth  can  only  know, 

Tested  by  life's  most  fiery  glow. 

Seeds  of  thought  will  never  thrive 

Till  dews  of  love  shall  bid  them  live. 

Let  me  stand  in  my  age  with  all  its  waters  flowing 
round  me.  If  they  sometimes  subdue,  they  must 
finally  upbear  me,  for  I  seek  the  universal  —  and  that 
must  be  the  best. 

The  Spirit,  no  doubt,  leads  in  every  movement  of 
my  time :  if  I  seek  the  How,  I  shall  find  it,  as  well 
as  if  I  busied  myself  more  with  the  Why. 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         133 

Whatever  is,  is  right,  if  only  men  are  steadily  bent  to 
make  it  so,  by  comprehending  and  fulfilling  its  design. 

May  not  I  have  an  office,  too,  in  my  hospitality 
and  ready  sympathy  ?  If  I  sometimes  entertain 
guests  who  cannot  pay  with  gold  coin,  with  "  fair 
rose  nobles,"  that  is  better  than  to  lose  the  chance  of 
entertaining  angels  unawares. 

You,  my  three  friends,  are  held  in  heart-honor,  by 
rne.  You,  especially,  Good-Sense,  because  where 
you  do  not  go  yourself,  you  do  not  object  to  another's 
going,  if  he  will.  You  are  really  liberal..  You,  Old 
Church,  are  of  use,  by  keeping  unforgot  the  effigies 
of  old  religion,  and  reviving  the  tone  of  pure  Spen 
serian  sentiment,  which  this  time  is  apt  to  stifle  in  its 
childish  haste.  But  you  are  very  faulty  in  censuring 
and  wishing  to  limit  others  by  your  own  standard. 
You,  Self-Poise,  fill  a  priestly  office.  Could  but  a 
larger  intelligence  of  the  vocations  of  others,  and  a 
tender  sympathy  with  their  individual  natures  be 
added,  had  you  more  of  love,  or  more  of  apprehen 
sive  genius,  (for  either  would  give  you  the  needed 
expansion  arid  delicacy)  you  would  command  my 
entire  reverence.  As  it  is,  I  must  at  times  deny  and 
oppose  you,  and  so  must  others,  for  you  tend,  by 
your  influence,  to  exclude  us  from  our  full,  free  life. 
We  must  be  content  when  you  censure,  and  rejoiced 
when  you  approve  ;  always  admonished  to  good  by 
your  whole  being,  and  sometimes  by  y.our  judgment. 
And  so  I  pass  on  to  interest  myself  and  others  in  the 
memoir  of  the  Seherin  von  Prevorst. 

Aside  from  Lowenstein,  a  town  of  Wirtemberg, 
on  mountains  whose   highest  summit  is  more  than 
12 


134  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

eighteen  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  lies 
in  romantic  seclusion,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
woods  and  hills,  the  hamlet  of  Prevorst. 

Its  inhabitants  number  about  four  hundred  and  fifty, 
most  of  whom  support  themselves  by  wood-cutting, 
and  making  charcoal,  and  collecting  wood  seed. 

As  is  usual  with  those  who  live  upon  the  moun 
tains,  these  are  a  vigorous  race,  and  generally  live  to 
old  age  without  sickness.  Diseases  that  infest  the 
valley,  such  as  ague,  never  touch  them  ;  but  they  are 
subject  in  youth  to  attacks  upon  the  nerves,  which 
one  would  not  expect  in  so  healthy  a  class.  In  a 
town  situated  near  to,  and  like  Prevorst,  the  child 
ren  were  often  attacked  with  a  kind  of  St.  Vitus's 
dance.  They  would  foresee  when  it  would  seize 
upon  them,  and,  if  in  the  field,  would  hasten  home 
to  undergo  the  paroxysms  there.  From  these  they 
rose,  as  from  magnetic  sleep,  without  memory  of  what 
had  happened. 

Other  symptoms  show  the  inhabitants  of  this  re 
gion  very  susceptible  to  magnetic  and  sidereal  influ 
ences. 

On  this  mountain,  and  indeed  in  the  hamlet  of 
Prevorst,  was,  in  1801,  a  woman  born,  in  whom  a 
peculiar  inner  life  discovered  itself  from  early  child 
hood.  Frederica  Hauflfe,  whose  father  was  game 
keeper  of  this  district  of  forest,  was,  as  the  position 
and  solitude  of  her  birthplace  made  natural,  brought 
up  in  the  most  simple  manner.  In  the  keen  moun 
tain  air  and  long  winter  cold,  she  was  not  softened 
by  tenderness  either  as  to  dress  or  bedding,  but  grew 
up  lively  and  blooming  ;  and  while  her  brothers  and 


THE    SEERESS    OF    PREVORST.  135 

sisters,  under  the  same  circumstances,  were  subject  to 
rheumatic  attacks,  she  remained  free  from  them.  On 
the  other  hand,  her  peculiar  tendency  displayed  itself 
in  her  dreams.  If  anything  affected  her  painfully,  if 
her  mind  was  excited  by  reproof,  she  had  instructive 
warning,  or  prophetic  dreams. 

While  yet  quite  young,  her  parents  let  her  go,  for 
the  advantages  of  instruction,  to  her  grand-father,  Jo- 
hann  Schmidgall,  in  LiJwenstein. 

Here  were  discovered  in  her  the  sensibility  to  mag 
netic  and  ghostly  influences,  which,  the  good  Kerner 
assures  us,  her  grand-parents  deeply  lamented,  and 
did  all  in  their  power  to  repress.  But,  as  it  appears 
that  her  grandfather,  also,  had  seen  a  ghost,  and 
there  were  evidently  legends  in  existence  about  the 
rooms  in  which  the  little  Frederika  saw  ghosts,  and 
spots  where  the  presence  of  human  bones  caused  her 
sudden  shivering,  we  may  be  allowed  to  doubt  whether 
indirect  influence  was  not  more  powerful  than  direct 
repression  upon  these  subjects. 

There  is  the  true  German  impartiality  with  regard 
to  the  scene  of  appearance  for  these  imposing  visiters ; 
sometimes  it  is  "  a  room  in  the  Castle  of  Lowenstein, 
long  disused,"  a  la  Radclifle,  sometimes  "  a  deserted 
kitchen." 

This  "  solemn,  unhappy  gift,"  brought  no  distur 
bance  to  the  childish  life  of  the  maiden,  she  enjoyed 
life  with  more  vivacity  than  most  of  her  companions. 
The  only  trouble  she  had  was  the  extreme  irritability 
of  the  optic  nerve,  which,  though  without  inflamma 
tion  of  the  eyes,  sometimes  confined  her  to  a  soli 
tary  chamber.  "  This,"  says  Dr.  K.  "  was  probably  a 


136  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

sign  of  the  development  of  the  spiritual  in  the  fleshly- 
eye." 

Sickness  of  her  parents  at  last  called  her  back  to 
the  lonely  Prevorst,  where,  by  trouble  and  watching 
beside  sick  beds,  her  feelings  .were  too  much  excited, 
so  that  the  faculty  for  prophetic  dreams  and  the  vision 
of  spirits  increased  upon  her. 

From  her  seventeenth  to  her  nineteenth  year, 
when  every  outward  relation  -  was  pleasant  for  her, 
this  inward  life  was  not  so  active,  and  she  was  distin 
guished  from  other  girls  of  her  circle  only  by.  the 
more  intellectual  nature,  which  displayed  itself  chiefly 
in  the  eyes,  and  by  a  greater  liveliness  which,  however, 
never  passed  the  bounds  of  grace  and  propriety. 

She  had  none  of  the  sentimentality  so  common  at 
that  age,  and  it  can  be  proved  that  she  had  never  an 
attachment,  nor  was  disappointed  in  love,  as  has  been 
groundlessly  asserted. 

In  her  nineteenth  year,  she  was  by  her  family  be 
trothed  to  Herr  H.  The  match  was  desirable  on 
account  of  the  excellence  of  the  man,  and  the  sure 
provision  it  afforded  for  her  comfort  through  life. 

But,  whether  from  presentiment  of  the  years  of 
suffering  that  were  before  her,  or  from  other  hidden 
feelings,  of  which  we  only  know  with  certainty  that, 
if  such  there  were,  they  were  not  occasioned  by  an 
other  attachment,  she  sank  into  a  dejection,  inexpli 
cable  to  her  family  ;  passed  whole  days  in  weeping ; 
scarcely  slept  for  some  weeks,  and  thus  the  life  of  feel 
ing  which  had  been  too  powerful  in  her  childhood  was 
called  up  anew  in  full  force. 

On  the  day  of  her  solemn  betrothal,  took  place, 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         137 

also,  the  funeral  of  T.,  the  preacher  of  Oberstenfeld, 
a  man  of  sixty  and  more  years,  whose  preaching,  in 
struction,  and  character,  (he  was  goodness  itself,)  had 
had  great  influence  upon  her  life.  She  followed  the 
dear  remains,  with  others,  to  the  church-yard.  Her 
heart  till  then  so  heavy,  was  suddenly  relieved  and 
calmed,  as  she  stood  beside  the  grave.  She  remain 
ed  there  long,  enjoying  her  new  peace,  and  when  she 
went  away  found  herself  tranquil,  but  indifferent  to 
all  the  concerns  of  this  world.  Here  began  the  pe 
riod,  not  indeed  as  yet  of  sickness,  but  of  her  pecu 
liar  inward  life,  which  knew  afterward  no  pause. 

Later,  in  somnambulic  state,  she  spoke  of  this  day 
in  the  following  verses.  The  deceased  had  often  ap 
peared  to  her  as  a  shape  of  light,  protecting  her  from 
evil  spirits. 

(These  are  little  simple  rhymes ;  they  are  not 
worth  translating  into  verse,  though,  in  the  original, 
they  have  a  childish  grace.) 

What  was  once  so  dark  to  me, 
I  see  now  clearly. 

In   that    day 
When  I  had  given  in  marriage  myself  away, 

I  stood  quite  immersed  in  thee, 
Thou  angel  figure  above  thy  grave  mound. 
Willingly  would  I  have  exchanged  with  thee, 
Willingly  given  up  to  thee  my  earthly  luck, 
Which  those  around  praised  as  the  blessing  of  heaven. 

I  prayed  upon  thy  grave 
For  one  blessing  only, 
12* 


138          SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

That  the  wings  "of  this  angel 
Might  henceforward 
On  the  hot  path  of  life, 
Waft  around  me  the  peace  of  heaven. 
There  standest  thou,  angel,  now ;   my  prayer  was  heard. 

She  was,  in  consequence  of  her  marriage,  removed 
to  Kiirnbach,  a  place  on  the  borders  of  Wiirtemberg 
and  Baden.  Its  position  is  low,  gloomy,  shut  in  by 
hills;  opposite  in  all  the  influences  of  earth  and 
atmosphere  to  those  of  Prevorst  and  its  vicinity. 

Those  of  electrical  susceptibility  are  often  made 
sick  or  well  by  change  of  place.  Papponi,  (of  whom 
Amoretti  writes,)  a  man  of  such  susceptibility,  was 
cured  of  convulsive  attacks  by  change  of  place. 
Pennet  could  find  repose  while  in  one  part  of  Cala 
bria,  only  by  wrapping  himself  in  an  oil-cloth  mantle, 
thus,  as  it  were,  isolating  himself.  That  great  sense 
of  sidereal  and  imponderable  influences,  which  after 
ward  manifested  itself  so  clearly  in  the  Seherin,  pro 
bably  made  this  change  of  place  very  unfavorable  to 
her.  Later,  it  appeared,  that  the  lower  she  came 
down  from  the  hills,  the  more  she  suffered  from 
spasms,  but  on  the  heights  her  tendency  to  the  mag 
netic  state  was  the  greatest. 

But  also  mental  influences  were  hostile  to  her. 
Already  withdrawn  from  the  outward  life,  she  was 
placed,  where,  as  consort  and  housekeeper  to  a  labor 
ing  man,  the  calls  on  her  care  and  attention  were  in 
cessant.  She  was  obliged  hourly  to  forsake  her  inner 
home,  to  provide  for  an  outer,  which  did  not  corres 
pond  with  it. 

She  bore  this  seven  months,  though  flying  to  soli- 


THE.  SEERESS    OF    PREVORST.  139 

tude,  whenever  outward  relations  permitted.  But 
longer  it  was  not  possible  to  conceal  the  inward  verity 
by  an  outward  action,  "  the  body  sank  beneath  the 
attempt,  and  the  spirit  took  refuge  in  the  inner  circle." 

One  night  she  dreamed  that  she  "awoke  and  found 
the  dead  body  of  the  preacher  T.  by  her  side  ;  that  at 
the  same  time  her  father,  and  two  physicians  were 
considering  what  should  be  done  for  her  in  a  severe 
sickness.  She  called  out  that  "  the  dead  friend  would 
help  her ;  she  needed  no  physician."  Her  husband, 
hearing  her  cry  out  in  sleep,  woke  her. 

This  dream  was  presage  of  a  fever,  which  seized 
her  next  morning.  It  lasted  fourteen  days  with  great 
violence,  and  was  succeeded  by  attacks  of  convulsion 
and  spasm.  This  was  the  beginning  of  that  state  of 
bodily  suffering  and  mental  exaltation  in  which  she 
passed  the  remaining  seven  years  of  her  .life. 

She  seems  to  have  been  very  injudiciously  treated 
in  the  first  stages  of  her  illness.  Bleeding  was  re 
sorted  to,  as  usual  in  cases  of  extreme  suffering  where 
the  nurses  know  not  what  else  to  do,  and,  as  usual, 
the  momentary  relief  was  paid  for  by  an  increased 
nervousness,  and  capacity  for  suffering. 

Magnetic  influences  from  other  persons  were  of 
frequent  use  to  her,  but  they  were  applied  without 
care  as  to  what  characters  and  constitutions  were 
brought  into  connexion  with  hers,  and  were  probably 
in  the  end  just  as  injurious  to  her  as  the  loss  of  blood. 
At  last  she  became  so  weak,  so  devoid  of  all  power 
in  herself,  that  her  life  seemed  entirely  dependent  on 
artificial  means  and  the  influence  of  other  men. 

There  is  a  singular  story  of  a  woman  in  the  neigh- 


140  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

borhood,  who  visited  her  once  or  twice,  apparently 
from  an  instinct  that  she  should  injure  her,  and  after 
wards,  interfered  in  the  same  way,  and  with  the 
same  results,  in  the  treatment  of  her  child. 

This  demoniacal  impulse  and  power,  which  were 
ascribed  to  the  Canidias  of  ancient  superstition,  may 
be  seen  subtly  influencing  the  members  of  every-day 
society.  We  see  persons  led,  by  an  uneasy  impulse, 
towards  the  persons  and  the  topics  where  they  are 
sure  they  can  irritate  and  annoy.  This  is  constantly 
observable  among  children,  also  in  the  closest  relations 
between  grown  up  people  who  have  not  yet  the  gov 
ernment  of  themselves,  neither  are  governed  by  the 
better  power. 

There  is  also  an  interesting  story  of  a  quack  who 
treated  her  with  amulets,  whose  parallel  may  be  found 
in  the  action  of  such  persons  in  common  society.  It 
is  an  expression  of  the  power  that  a  vulgar  and  self- 
willed  nature  will  attain  over  one  delicate,  poetical, 
but  not  yet  clear  within  itself;  outwardly  it  yields  to 
a  power  which  it  inwardly  disclaims. 

A  touching  little  passage  is  related  of  a  time  in  the 
first  years,  when  she  seemed  to  be  better,  so  much  so 
as  to  receive  an  evening  visit  from  some  female  friends. 
They  grew  merry  and  began  to  dance  ;  she  remained 
sad  and  thoughtful.  When  they  stopped,  she  was  in 
the  attitude  of  prayer.  One  of  her  intimates,  observ 
ing  this,  began  to  laugh.  This  affected  her  so  much, 
that  she  became  cold  and  rigid  like  a  corpse.  For 
some  time  they  did  not  hear  her  breathe,  and,  when  she 
did,  it  was  with  a  rattling  noise.  They  applied  mus 
tard  poultices,  and  used  foot  and  hand  baths ;  she  was 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         141 

brought  back  to  life,  but  to  a  state  of  great  suffer 
ing. 

She  recognized  as  her  guardian  spirit,  who  some 
times  magnetized  her  or  removed  from  her  neighbor 
hood  substances  that  were  hurtful  to  her,  her  grand 
mother  ;  thus  coinciding  with  the  popular  opinion  that 
traits  reappear  in  the  third  generation. 

Now  began  still  greater  wonders  ;  the  second  sight, 
numerous  and  various  visits  from  spirits  and  so  forth. 

The  following  may  be  mentioned  in  connection 
with  theories  and  experiments  current  among  our 
selves. 

"  A  friend,  who  was  often  with  her  at  this,  time, 
wrote  to  me  (Kerner)  :  When  I,  with  my  finger, 
touch  her  on  the  forehead  between  the  eyebrows,  she 
says  each  time  something  that  bears  upon  the  state  of 
my  soul.  Some  of  these  sentences  I  record. 

"  Keep  thy  soul  so  that  thou  mayst  bear  it  in  thy 
hands." 

"  When  thou  comest  into  a  world  of  bustle  and 
folly,  hold  the  Lord  fast  in  thy  heart." 

"  If  any  seek  to  veil  from  thee  thy  true  feeling, 
pray  to  God  for  grace." 

"  Permit  not  thyself  to  stifle  the  light  that  springs 
up  within  thyself." 

"  Think  often  of  the  cross  of  Jesus  ;  go  forth  and 
embrace  it." 

"  As  the  dove  found  a  resting-place  in  Noah's  ark, 
so  wilt  thou,  also,  find  a  resting-place  which  God  has 
appointed  for  thee." 

When  she  was  put  under  the  care  of  Kerner,  she 


142  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

had  been  five  years  in  this  state,  and  was  reduced  to 
such  weakness,  that  she  was,  with  difficulty,  sustained 
from  hour  to  hour. 

He  thought  at  first  it  would  be  best  to  take  no  no 
tice  of  her  magnetic  states  and  directions,  and  told 
her  he  should  not,  but  should  treat  her  with  regard 
to  her  bodily  symptoms,  as  he  would  any  other  in 
valid. 

"  At  this  time  she  fell  every  evening  into  magnetic 
sleep,  and  gave  orders  about  herself ;  to  which,  how 
ever,  those  round  her  no  longer  paid  attention. 

I  was  now  called  in.  I  had  never  seen  this 
woman,  but  had  heard  many  false  or  perverted  ac 
counts  of  her  condition.  I  must  confess  that  I  shared 
the  evil  opinion  of  the  world  as  to  her  illness ;  that  I 
advised  to  pay  no  attention  to  her  magnetic  situation, 
and  the  orders  she  gave  in  it ;  in  her  spasms,  to  for 
bear  the  laying  of  hands  upon  her ;  to  deny  her  the 
support  of  persons  of  stronger  nerves ;  in  short,  to 
do  all  possible  to  draw  her  out  of  the  magnetic  state, 
and  to  treat  her  with  attention,  but  with  absolutely 
none  but  the  common  medical  means. 

These  views  were  shared  by  my  friend,  Dr.  Off,  of 
Lowenstein,  who  continued  to  treat  her  accordingly. 
But  without  good  results.  Hemorrhage,  spasms, 
night-sweats  continued.  Her  gums  were  scorbutic- 
ally  affected,  and  bled  constantly ;  she  lost  all  her 
teeth.  Strengthening  remedies  affected  her  like  be 
ing  drawn  up  from  her  bed  by  force  ;  she  sank  into 
a  fear  of  all  men,  and  a  deadly  weakness.  Her  death 
was  to  be  wished,  but  it  came  not.  Her  relations,  in 
despair,  not  knowing  themselves  what  they  could  do 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         143 

with  her,  brought  her,  almost  against  my  will,  to  me 
at  Weinsbiirg. 

She  was  brought  hither  an  image  of  death,  per 
fectly  emaciated,  unable  to  raise  herself.  Every  three 
or  four  minutes,  a  teaspoonful  of  nourishment  must 
be  given  her,  else  she  fell  into  faintness  or  convulsion. 
Her  somnambulic  situation  alternated  with  fever, 
hemorrhage,  and  night-sweats.  Every  evening,  about 
seven  o'clock,  she  fell  into  magnetic  sleep.  She  then 
spread  out  her  arms,  and  found  herself,  from  that 
moment,  in  a  clairvoyant  state  ;  but  only  when  she 
brought  them  back  upon  her  breast,  did  she  begin  to 
speak.  (Kerner  mentions  that  her  child,  too,  slept 
with  its  hands  and  feet  crossed.)  In  this  state  her 
eyes  were  shut,  her  face  calm  and  bright.  As  she 
fell  asleep,  the  first  night  after  her  arrival,  she  asked 
for  me,  but  I  bade  them  tell  her  that  I  now,  and  in 
future,  should  speak  to  her  only  when  awake. 

After  she  awoke,  I  went  to  her  and  declared,  in 
brief  and  earnest  terms,  that  I  should  pay  no  atten 
tion  to  what  she  said  in  sleep,  and  that  her  somnam 
bulic  state,  which  had  lasted  so  long  to  the  grief  and 
trouble  of  her  family,  must  now  come  to  an  end. 
This  declaration  I  accompanied  by  an  earnest  appeal, 
designed  to  awaken  a  firm  will  in  her  to  put  down 
the  excessive  activity  of  brain  that  disordered  her 
whole  system.  Afterwards,  no  address  was  made  to 
her  on  any  subject  when  in  her  sleep-waking  state. 
She  was  left  to  lie  unheeded.  I  pursued  a  homoeo 
pathic  treatment  of  her  case.  But  the  medicines 
constantly  produced  effects  opposite  to  what  I  ex 
pected.  She  now  suffered  less  from  spasm  and  som- 


144  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

nambulism,  but  with  increasing  marks  of  weakness 
and  decay.  All  seemed  as  if  the  end  of  her  suffer 
ings  drew  near.  It  was  too  late  for  the  means  I 
wished  to  use.  Affected  so  variously  and  powerfully 
by  magnetic  means  in  the  first  years  of  her  illness, 
she  had  now  no  life  more,  so  thoroughly  was  the  force 
of  her  own  organization  exhausted,  but  what  she  bor 
rowed  from  others.  In  her  now  more  infrequent 
magnetic  trance,  she  was  always  seeking  the  true 
means  of  her  cure.  It  was  touching  to  see  how,  re 
tiring  within  herself,  she  sought  for  help.  The  phy 
sician  who  had  aided  her  so  little  with  his  drugs,  must 
often  stand  abashed  before  this  inner  physician,  per 
ceiving  it  to  be  far  better  skilled  than  himself." 

After  some  weeks  forbearance,  Kerner  did  ask  her  in 
her  sleep  what  he  should  do  for  her.  She  prescribed 
a  magnetic  treatment,  which  was  found  of  use.  Af 
terwards,  she  described  a  machine,  of  which  there  is 
a  drawing  in  this  book,  which  she  wished  to  have 
made  for  her  use  ;  it  was  so,  and  she  derived  benefit 
from  it.  She  had  indicated  such  a  machine  in  the 
early  stages  of  her  disease,  but  at  that  time  no  one 
attended  to  her.  By  degrees  she  grew  better  under 
this  treatment,  and  lived  at  Weinsberg,  nearly  two 
years,  though  in  a  state  of  great  weakness,  and  more 
in  the  magnetic  and  clairvoyant  than  in  the  natural 
human  state. 

How  his  acquaintance  with  her  affected  the  phy 
sician,  he  thus  expresses  : 

"  During  those  last  months  of  her  abode  on  the 
earth,  there  remained  to  her  only  the  life  of  a  sylph. 
I  have  been  interested  to  record,  not  a  journal  of  her 


THE    SEERESS    OF    PREVORST.  145 

sickness,  but  the  mental  phenomena  of  such  an 
almost  disembodied  life.  Such  may  cast  light  on  the 
period  when  also  our  Psyche  may  unfold  her  wings, 
free  from  bodily  bonds,  and  the  hindrances  of  space 
and  time.  I  give  facts ;  each  reader  may  interpret 
them  in  his  own  way. 

The  manuals  of  animal  magnetism  and  other 
writings  have  proposed  many  theories  by  which  to  ex 
plain  such.  All  these  are  known  to  me.  I  shall 
make  no  reference  to  them,  but  only,  by  use  of  par 
allel  facts  here  and  there,  show  that  the  phenomena 
of  this  case  recall  many  in  which  there  is  nothing 
marvellous,  but  which  are  manifestly  grounded  in  our 
common  existence.  Such  apparitions  cannot  too  fre 
quently,  if  only  for  moments,  flash  across  that  com 
mon  existence,  as  electric  lights  from  the  higher 
world. 

Frau  H.  was,  previous  to  my  magnetic  treatment, 
in  so  deep  a  somnambulic  life,  that  she  was,  in  fact, 
never  rightly  awake,  even  when  she  seemed  to  be  ;  or 
rather,  let  us  say,  she  was  at  all  times  more  awake 
than  others  are  ;  for  it  is  strange  to  term  sleep  this 
state  which  is  just  that  of  the  clearest  wakefulness. 
Better  to  say  she  was  immersed  in  the  inward  state. 

In  this  state  and  the  consequent  excitement  of  the 
nerves,  she  had  almost  wholly  lost  organic  force,  and 
received  it  only  by  transmission  from  those  of  stronger 
condition,  principally  from  their  eyes  and  the  ends 
of  the  fingers.  The  atmosphere  and  nerve  communi 
cations  of  others,  said  she,  bring  me  the  life  which  I 
need  ;  they  do  not  feel  it  ;  these  effusions  on  which 
I  live,  would  flow  from  them  and  be  lost,  if  my  nerves 
13 


146  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

did  not  attract  them  ;  only  in  this  way  can  I 
live. 

She  often  assured  us  that  others  did  not  suffer  by 
loss  of  what  they  imparted  to  her ;  but  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  persons  were  weakened  by  constant  in 
tercourse  with  her,  suffered  from  contraction  in  the 
limbs,  trembling,  &c.  They  were  weakened  also  in 
the  eyes  and  pit  of  the  stomach.  From  those  related 
to  her  by  blood,  she  could  draw  more  benefit  than 
from  others,  and,  when  very  weak,  from  them  only  ; 
probably  on  account  of  a  natural  affinity  of  tempera 
ment.  She  could  not  bear  to  have  around  her 
nervous  and  sick  persons ;  those  from  whom  she 
could  gain  nothing  made  her  weaker. 

Even  so  it  is  remarked  that  flowers  soon  lose  their 
beauty  near  the  sick,  and  suffer  peculiarly  under 
the  contact  or  care  of  some  persons. 

Other  physicians,  beside  myself,  can  vouch  that 
the  presence  of  some  persons  affected  her  as  a  pabu 
lum  vitse,  while,  if  left  with  certain  others  or  alone, 
she  was  sure  to  grow  weaker. 

From  the  air,  tdo,  she  seemed  to  draw  a  peculiar 
ethereal  nourishment  of  the  same  sort  ;  she  could 
not  remain  without  an  open  window  in  the  severest 
cold  of  winter.1 

The  spirit  of  things,  about  which  we  have  no  per 
ception,  was  sensible  to  her,  and  had  influence  on 
her  ;  she  showed  this  sense  of  the  spirit  of  metals, 
plants,  animals,  and  men.  Imponderable  existences, 

1  Near  us,  this  last  winter,  a  person  who  suffered,  and  finally  died, 
from  spasms  like  those  of  the  Seherin,also  found  relief  from  having  the 
windows  open,,  while  the  cold  occasioned  great  suffering  to  his  attendants. 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         147 

such  as  the  various  colors  of  the  ray,  showed  distinct 
influences  upon  her.  The  electric  fluid  was  visible 
and  sensible  to  her  when  it  was  not  to  us.  Yea  ! 
what  is  incredible  !  even -the  written  words  of  men 
she  could  discriminate  by  touch.1 

These  experiments  are  detailed  under  their  several 
heads  in  the  book. 

From  her  eyes  flowed  a  peculiar  spiritual  light 
which  impressed '  even  those  who  saw  her  for  a  very 
short  time.  She  was  in  each  relation  more  spirit 
than  human. 

Should  we  compare  her  with  anything  human,  we 
would  say  she  was  as  one  detained  at  the  moment  of 
dissolution,  betwixt  life  and  death  ;  and  who  is  better 
able  to  discern  the  affairs  of  the  world  that  lies  before, 
than  that  behind  him. 

She  was  often  in  situations  when  one  who  had,  like 
her,  the  power  of  discerning  spirits,  would  have  seen 
her  own  free  from  the  body,  which  at  all  times  envel 
oped  it  only  as  a  light  veil.  She  saw  herself  often  out 
of  the  body  ;  saw  herself  double.  She  would  say,  "  I 
seem  out  of  myself,  hover  above  my  body,  and  think 
of  it  as  something  apart  from  myself.  But  it  is  not  a 
pleasant  feeling,  because  I  still  sympathize  with  my 
body.  If  only  rny  soul  were  bound  more  firmly  to 
the  nerve-spirit,  it  might  be  bound  more  closely  with 
the  nerves  themselves  ;  but  the  bond  of  my  nerve- 
spirit  is  always  becoming  looser." 

She  makes  a  distinction  between  spirit  as  the  pure 
intelligence ;  soul,  the  ideal  of  this  individual  man  ;  and 
nerve-spirit,  the  dynamic  of  his  temporal  existence- 

1  Facts  of  the  same  kind  are  asserted  of  late  among  ourselves,  and 
believed,  though  "  incredible." 


148  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

Of  this  feeling  of  double  identity,  an  invalid,  now 
wasting  under  nervous  disease,  often  speaks  to  me. 
He  has  it  when  he  first  awakes  from  sleep.  Blake, 
the  painter,  whose  life  was  almost  as  much  a  series  of 
trances  as  that  of  our  Seherin,  in  his  designs  of  the 
Resurrection,  represents  spirits  as  rising  from,  or 
hovering  over,  their  bodies  in  the  same  way. 

Often  she  seemed  quite  freed  from  her  body,  and 
to  have  no  more  sense  of  its  weight. 

As  to  artificial  culture,  or  dressing,  (dressur,)  Frau  H. 
had  nothing  of  it.  She  had  learned  no  foreign  tongue, 
neither  history,  nor  geography,  nor  natural  philosophy, 
nor  any  other  of  those  branches  now  imparted  to  those 
of  her  sex  in  their  schools.  The  Bible  and  hymn-book 
were,  especially  in  the  long  years  of  her  sickness,  her 
only  reading  :  her  moral  character  was  throughout 
blameless  ;  she  was  pious  without  fanaticism.  Even 
her  long  suffering,  and  the  peculiar  manner  of  it,  she 
recognized  as  the  grace  of  God  ;  as  she  expresses  in 
the  following  verses  : 

Great  God !  how  great  is  thy  goodness, 
To  me  thou  hast  given  faith  and  love, 
Holding  me  firm  in  the  distress  of  my  sufferings. 

In  the  darkness  of  my  sorrow, 
I  was  so  far  led  away, 
As  to  beg  for  peace  in  speedy  death. 

But  then  came  to  me  the  mighty  strong  faith  ; 
Hope  came  ;  and  came  eternal  love  ; 
They  shut  my  earthly  eyelids. 
When,  O  bliss  ! 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         149 

Dead  lies  my  bodily  frame, 
But  in  the  inmost  mind  a  light  burns  up, 
Such  as  none  knows  in  the  waking  life. 
Is  it  a  light  ?  no  !  but  a  sun  of  grace  ! 

Often  In  the  sense  of  her  sufferings,  while  in  the 
magnetic  trance,  she  made  prayers  in  verse,  of  which 
this  is  one  : 

Father,  hear  me  ! 

Hear  my  prayer  and  supplication. 

Father,  I  implore  thee,  .'. 

Let  not  thy  child  perish  ! 

Look  on  my  anguish,  my  tears. 

Shed  hope  into  my  heart,  and  still  its  longing, 
Father,  on  thee  I  call  ;  have  pity  ! 
Take  something  from  me,  the  sick  one,  the  poor  one. 

Father,  I  leave  thee  not, 

Though  sickness  and  pain  consume  me. 

If  I  the  spring's  light, 
See  only  through  the  mist  of  tears, 

Father,  I  leave  thee  not. 

These  verses  lose  their  merit  of  a  touching  sim 
plicity  in  an  unrhymed  translation  ;  but  they  will  serve 
to  show  the  habitual  temper  of  her  mind. 

"  As  I  was  a  maker  of  verses,"  continues  Dr.  Ker- 
ner,  "  it  was  easy  to  say,  Frau  H.  derived  this  talent 
from  my  magnetic  influence ;  but  she  made  these 
little  verses  before  she  came  under  my  care."  Not 
without  deep  significance  was  Apollo  distinguished  as 
being  at  once  the  God  of  poesy,  of  prophecy,  and  the 
13* 


150  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

medical  art.  Sleep-waking  develops  the  powers 
of  seeing,  healing,  and  poesy.  How  nobly  the 
ancients  understood  the  inner  life ;  how  fully  is 
it  indicated  in  their  mysteries  ? 

I  know  a  peasant  maiden,  who  cannot  write, 
but  who,  in  the  magnetic  state,  speaks  in  measur 
ed  verse. 

Galen  was  indebted  to  his  nightly  dreams  for  a  part 
of  his  medical  knowledge. 

The  calumnies  spread  about  Frau  H.  were  many 
and  gross ;  this  she  well  knew.  As  one  day  she  heard 
so  many  of  these  as  to  be  much  affected  by  them,  we 
thought  she  would  express  her  feelings  that  night  in 
the  magnetic  sleep,  but  she  only  said  "  they  can  affect 
my  body,  but  not  my  spirit."  Her  mind,  raised  above 
such  assaults  by  the  consciousness  of  innocence, 
maintained  its  tranquillity  and  dwelt  solely  on  spirit 
ual  matters. 

Once  in  her  sleep-waking  she  wrote  thus  : 

When  the  world  declares  of  me 
Such  cruel  ill  in  calumny, 
And  to  your  ears  it  finds  a  way, 
Do  you  believe  it,  yea  or  nay  ? 

I  answered : 

To  us  thou  seemest  true  and  pure, 
Let  others  view  it  as  they  will ; 
We  have  our  assurance  still 

If  our  own  sight  can  make  us  sure. 

People  of  all  kinds,  to  my  great  trouble,  were 
always  pressing  to  see  her.  If  we  refused  them  ac- 


THE    SEERESS    OF    PREVORST.  151 

cess  to  the  sick  room,  they  avenged  themselves  by 
the  invention  of  all  kinds  of  falsehoods. 
•  She  met  all  with  an  equal  friendliness,  even  when 
it  cost  her  bodily  pain,  and  those  who  defamed  her, 
she  often  defended.  There  came  to  her  both  good 
and  bad  men.  She  felt  the  evil  in  men  clearly,  but 
would  not  censure  ;  lifted  up  a  stone  to  cast  at  no  sin 
ner,  but  was  rather  likely  to  awake,  in  the  faulty  beings 
she  suffered  near  her,  faith  in  a  spiritual  life  which 
might  make  them  better. 

Years  before  she  was  brought  to  me,  the  earth, 
with  its  atmosphere,  and  all  that  is  about  and  upon 
it,  human  beings  not  excepted,  was  no  more  for  her. 
She  needed,  not  only  a  magnetizer,  not  only  a  love, 
an  earnestness,  an  insight,  such  as  scarce  lies  within 
the  capacity  of  any  man,  but  also  what  no  mortal 
could  bestow  upon  her,  another  heaven,  other  means 
of  nourishment,  other  air  than  that  of  this  earth. 
She  belonged  to  the  world  of  spirits,  living  here  her 
self,  as  more  than  half  spirit.  She  belonged  to  the 
state  after  death,  into  which  she  had  advanced  more 
than  half  way. 

It  is  possible  she  might  have  been  brought  back 
to  an  adaptation  for  this  world  in  the  second  or 
third  year  of  her  malady  ;  but,  in  the  fifth,  no  mode  of 
treatment  could  have  effected  this.  But  by  care  she 
was  aided  to  a  greater  harmony  and  clearness  of  the 
inward  life  ;  she  enjoyed  at  Weinsberg,  as  she  after 
said,  the  richest  and  happiest  days  of  this  life,  and  to 
us  her  abode  here  remains  a  point  of  light. 

As  to  her  outward  form,  we  have  already  said  it 
seemed  but  a  thin  veil  about  her  spirit.  She  was 


152  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

little,  her  features  of  an  oriental  cast,  her  eye  had  the 
penetrating  look  of  a  seer's  eye,  which  was  set  off  by 
the  shade  of  long  dark  eyelashes.  She  was  a  light 
flower  that  only  lived  on  rays. 

Eschenmayer  writes  thus  of  her  in  his  "  Mysteries." 

"  B[er  natural  state  was  a  mild,  friendly  earnestness, 
always  disposed  to  prayer  and  devotion  ;  her  eye  had 
a  highly  spiritual  expression,  and  remained,  notwith 
standing  her  great  sufferings,  always  bright  and  clear. 
Her  look  was  penetrating,  would  quickly  change  in 
the  conversation,  seem  to  give  forth  sparks,  and  remain 
fixed  on  some  one  place, — this  was  a  token  that  some 
strange  apparition  fettered  it, — then  would  she  re 
sume  the  conversation.  When  I  first  saw  her,  she 
was  in  a  situation  which  showed  that  her  bodily  life 
could  not  long  endure,  and  that  recovery  to  the  com 
mon  natural  state  was  quite  impossible.  Without 
visible  derangement  of  the  functions,  her  life  seemed 
only  a  wick  glimmering  in  the  socket.  .  She  was,  as 
Kerner  truly  describes  her,  like  one  arrested  in  the 
act  of  dying  and  detained  in  the  body  by  magnetic 
influences.  Spirit  and  soul  seemed  often  divided, 
and  the  spirit  to  have  taken  up  its  abode  in  other  re 
gions,  while  the  soul  was  yet  bound  to  the  body." 

I  have  given  these  extracts  as  being  happily  ex 
pressive  of  the  relation  between  the  physician  and 
the  clairvoyant,  also  of  her  character. 

It  seems  to  have  been  one  of  singular  gentleness, 
and  grateful  piety,  simple  and  pure,  but  not  at  all 
one  from  which  we  should  expect  extraordinary  de 
velopment  of  brain  in  any  way  ;  yet  the  excitement 
of  her  temperament  from  climate,  scenery,  the  influ- 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         153 

ence  of  traditions  which  evidently  flowed  round  her, 
and  a  great  constitutional  impressibility  did  develop 
in  her  brain  the  germs  both  of  poetic  creation  and 
science. 

I  say  poetic  creation,  for,  to  my  mind,  the  ghosts 
she  saw  were  projections  of  herself  into  objective  re 
ality.  The  Hades  she  imagines  is  based  in  fact, 
for  it  is  one  of  souls,  who,  having  neglected  their 
opportunities  for  better  life,  find  themselves  left  for 
lorn,  helpless,  seeking  aid  from  beings  still  ignorant 
and  prejudiced,  perhaps  much  below  themselves  in 
natural  powers.  Having  forfeited  their  chance  of 
direct  access  to  God,  they  seek  mediation  from 
the  prayers  of  men.  But  in  the  coloring  and  dress  l 
of  these  ghosts,  as  also  in  their  manner  and  mode 
of  speech,  there  is  a  great  deal  which  seems  merely 
fanciful  —  local  and  peculiar. 

To  me,  these  interviews  represent  only  prophecies 
of  her  mind  ;  yet,  considered  in  this  way,  they  are,  if 
not  ghostly,  spiritual  facts  of  high  beauty,  and  which 
cast  light  on  the  state  of  the  soul  after  its  separation 
from  the  body.  Her  gentle  patience  with  them,  her 
steady  reference  to  a  higher  cause,  her  pure  joy, 
when  they  became  white  in  the  light  of  happiness 
obtained  through  aspiration,  are  worthy  of  a  more 
than  half  enfranchised  angel. 

As  to  the  stories  of  mental  correspondence  and 
visits  to  those  still  engaged  in  this  world,  such  as  are 
told  of  her  presentiment  of  her  father's  death,  and 
connexion  with  him  in  the  last  moments,  these  are 

1  The  women  ghosts  all  wear  veils,  put  on  the  way  admired  by  the 
Italian  poets,  of  whom,  however,  she  could  know  nothing. 


154  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

probably  pure  facts.  Those  who  have  sufficient 
strength  of  affection  to  be  easily  disengaged  from 
external  impressions  and  habits,  and  who  dare  trust 
their  mental  impulses  are  familiar  with  such. 

Her  invention  of  a  language  seems  a  simply  natu 
ral  motion  of  the  mind  when  left  to  itself.  The 
language  we  habitually  use  is  so  broken,  and  so 
hackneyed  by  ages  of  conventional  use,  that,  in  all 
deep  states  of  being,  we  crave  one  simple  and  primi 
tive  in  its  stead.  Most  persons  make  one  more  or 
less  clear  from  looks,  tones,  and  symbols  :  —  this  wo 
man,  in  the  long  leisure  of  her  loneliness,  and  a  mind 
bent  upon  itself,  attempted  to  compose  one  of  letters 
and  words.  I  look  upon  it  as  no  gift  from  without, 
but  a  growth  from  her  own  mind. 

Her  invention  of  a  machine,  of  which  she  made  a 
drawing,  her  power  of  drawing  correctly  her  life-cir 
cle,  and  sun-circle,  and  the  mathematical  feeling  she 
had  of  her  existence,  in  correspondent  sections  of 
the  two,  are  also  valuable  as  mental  facts.  These 
figures  describe  her  history  and  exemplify  the  posi 
tion  of  mathematics  toward  the  world  of  creative 
thought. 

Every  fact  of  mental  existence  ought  to  be  capable 
of  similar  demonstration.  I  attach  no  especial  im 
portance  to  her  circles :  —  we  all  live  in  such  ;  all 
who  observe  themselves  have  the  same  sense  of  ex 
actness  and  harmony  in  the  revolutions  of  their  des 
tiny.  But  few  attend  to  what  is  simple  and  invaria 
ble  in  the  motions  of  their  minds,  and  still  fewer 
seek  out  means  clearly  to  express  them  to  others. 

Goethe  has  taken  up  these  facts  in  his  Wander- 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         155 

jahre,  where  he  speaks  of  his  Macaria  ;  also,  one  of 
these  persons  who  are  compensated  for  bodily  in 
firmity  by  a  more  concentrated  and  acute  state  of 
mind,  and  consequent  accesses  of  wisdom,  as  being 
bound  to  a  star.  When  she  was  engaged  by  a  sense 
of  these  larger  revolutions,  she  seemed  to  those  near 
her  on  the  earth,  to  be  sick ;  when  she  was,  in  fact, 
lower,  but  better  adapted  to  the  details  and  variations 
of  an  earthly  life,  these  said  she  was  well.  Mac- 
aria  knew  the  sun  and  life  circles,  also,  the  lives  of 
spirit  and  soul,  as  did  the  forester's  daughter  of  Pre- 
vorst. 

Her  power  of  making  little  verses  was  one  of  her 
least  gifts.  Many  excitable  persons  possess  this  ta 
lent  at  versification,  as  all  may  possess  it.  It  is 
merely  that  a  certain  exaltation  of  feeling  raises  the 
mode  of  expression  with  it,  in  the  same  way  as  song 
differs  from  speech.  Verses  of  .this  sort  do  not 
necessarily  demand  the  high  faculties  that  constitute 
the  poet,  —  the  creative  powers.  Many  verses,  good 
ones,  are  personal  or  national  merely.  Ballads,  hymns, 
love-lyrics,  have  often  no  claim  differing  from  those 
of  common  prose  speech,  to  the  title  of  poems,  ex 
cept  a  greater  keenness  and  terseness  of  expression. 

The  verses  of  this  Seherin  are  of  the  simplest 
character,  the.natural  garb  for  the  sighs  or  aspirations 
of  a  lonely  heart.  She  uses  the  shortest  words,  the 
commonest  rhymes,  and  the  verses  move  us  by  their 
nature  and  truth  alone. 

The  most  interesting  of  these  facts  to  me,  are  her 
impressions  from  minerals  and  plants.  Her  impres 
sions  coincide  with  many  ancient  superstitions. 


156 


SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 


The  hazel  woke  her  immediately  and  gave  her 
more  power,  therefore  the  witch  with  her  hazel  wand, 
probably  found  herself  superior  to  those  around  her. 
We  may  also  mention,  in  reference  to  witchcraft,  that 
Dr.  K.  asserts  that,  in  certain  moods  of  mind,  she  had 
no  weight,  but  was  upborne  upon  water,  like  cork, 
thus  confirming  the  propriety,  and  justice  of  our  fore 
fathers'  ordeal  for  witchcraft ! 

The  laurel  produced  on  her  the  highest  magnetic 
effect,  therefore  the  Sibyls  had  good  reasons  for 
wearing  it  on  their  brows. 

"  The  laurel  had  on  her,  as  on  most  sleep-wakers, 
a  distinguished  magnetic  effect.  We  thus  see  why 
the  priestess  at  Delphi,  previous  to  uttering  her  ora 
cles,  shook  a  laurel  tree,  and  then  seated  herself  on  a 
tripod  covered  with  laurel  boughs.  In  the  temple  of 
^Esculapius,  and  others,  the  laurel  was  used  to  excite 
sleep  and  dream." 

From  grapes  she  declared  impressions,  which  cor 
responded  with  those  caused  by  the  wines  made  from 
them.  Many  kinds  were  given  her,  one  after  the 
other,  by  the  person  who  raised  them,  and  who  gives 
a  certificate  as  to  the  accuracy  of  her  impressions, 
and  his  belief  that  she  could  not  have  derived  them 
from  any  cause,  but  that  of  the  touch. 

She  prescribed  vegetable  substances  to  be  used  in 
her  machine,  (as  a  kind  of  vapor  bath,)  and  with  good 
results  to  herself. 

She  enjoyed  contact  with  minerals,  deriving  from 
those  she  liked  a  sense  of  concentrated  life.  Her 
impressions  of  the  precious  stones,  corresponded  with 
many  superstitions  of  the  ancients,  which  led  to  the 


THE    SEERESS    OF    PREVORST.  157 

preference  of  certain  gems  for  amulets,  on  which 
they  had  engraved  talismanic  figures. 

The  ancients,  in  addition  to  their  sense  of  the 
qualities  that  distinguish  the  diamond  above  all  gems, 
venerated  it  as  a  talisman  against  wild  beasts,  poison, 
and  evil  spirits,  thus  expressing  the  natural  influence  of 
what  is  so  enduring,  bright,  and  pure.  Townshend, 
speaking  of  the  effect  of  gems  on  one  of  his  sleep- 
wakers,  said,  she  loved  the  diamond  so  much  that  she 
would  lean  her  forehead  towards  it,  whenever  it  was 
brought  near  her. 

It  is  observable  that  these  sleep-wakers,  in  their 
prescriptions,  resemble  the  ancient  sages,  who  culled 
only  simples  for  the  sick.  But  if  they  have  this  fine 
sense,  also,  for  the  qualities  of  animal  and  mineral 
substances,  there  is  no  reason  why  they  should  not 
turn  bane  to  antidote,  and  prescribe  at  least  homeo 
pathic  doses  of  poison,  to  restore  the  diseased  to 
health. 

The  Seherin  ascribed  different  states  to  the  right 
and  left  sides  of  every  body,  even  of  the  lady  moon. 
The  left  is  most  impressible.  Query  :  Is  this  the 
reason  why  the  left  hand  has  been,  by  the  custom  of 
nations,  so  almost  disused,  because  the  heart  is  on  the 
left  side  ? 

She  also  saw  different  sights  in  the  left  from  the 
right  eye.  In  the  left,  the  bodily  state  of  the  person; 
in  the  right,  his  real  or  destined  self,  now  often  un 
known  to  himself,  almost  always  obscured  or  pervert 
ed  by  his  present  ignorance  or  mistake.  She  had 
also  the  gift  of  second  sight.  She  saw  the  coffins  of 
14 


158          SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

those  about  to  die.     She  saw  in  mirrors,  cups  of  wa 
ter  ;  in  soap-bubbles,  the  coming  future. 

We  are  here  reminded  of  many  beautiful  supersti 
tions  and  legends ;  t>f  the  secret  pool  in  which  the 
daring  may,  at  mid-moon  of  night,  read  the  future ; 
of  the  magic  globe,  on  whose  pure  surface  Britomart 
sees  her  future  love,  whom  she  must  seek,  arrayed  in 
knightly  armor,  through  a  difficult  and  hostile  world. 

A  looking-glass,  right  wondrously  aguized, 
Whose  virtues  through  the  wyde  world  soon  were  sol 
emnized. 

It  vertue  had  to  show  in  perfect  sight, 
Whatever  thing  was  in  the  World  contayned, 

Betwixt  the  lowest  earth  and  hevens  hight ; 
So  that  it  to  the  looker  appertayned, 

Whatever  foe  had  wrought,  or  friend  had  fayned, 
Herein  discovered  was,  ne  ought  mote  pas, 

Ne  ought  in  secret  from  the  same  remayned  ; 
Forthy  it  round  and  hollow  shaped  was, 
Like  to  the  world  itselfe,  and  seemed  a  World  of  Glas. 

Faerie  Queene,  Book  III. 

• 
Such   mirrors  had   Cornelius   Agrippa  and  other 

wizards.  The  soap-bubble  is  such  a  globe ;  only 
one  had  need  of  second  sight  or  double  sight  to  see 
the  pictures  on  so  transitory  a  mirror.  Perhaps  it  is 
some  vague  expectation  of  such  wonders,  that  makes 
us  so  fond  of  blowing  them  in  childish  years.  But, 
perhaps,  it  is  rather  as  a  prelude  to  the  occupation 
of  our  lives,  blowing  bubbles  where  all  things  may 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         159 

be  seen,  that,  "  to  the  looker  appertain,"  if  we  can 
keep  them  long  enough  or  look  quick  enough. 

In  short,  were  this  biography  of  no  other  value,  it 
would  be  most  interesting  as  showing  how  the  float 
ing  belief  of  nations,  always  no  doubt  shadowing 
forth  in  its  imperfect  fashion  the  poetic  facts  with 
their  scientific  exposition,  is  found  to  grow  up  anew 
in  a  simple,  but  high-wrought  nature. 

The  fashioning  spirit,  working  upwards  from  the 
clod  to  man,  proffers  as  its  last,  highest  essay,  the 
brain  of  man.  In  the  lowest  zoophyte  it  aimed  at 
this;  some  faint  rudiments  may  there  be  discerned: 
but  only  in  man  has  it  perfected  that  immense  gal 
vanic  battery  that  can  be  loaded  from  above,  below, 
and  around  ;  —  that  engine,  not  only  of  perception, 
but  of  conception  and  consecutive  thought,  —  whose 
right  hand  is  memory,  whoss  life  is  idea,  the  crown 
of  nature,  the  platform  from  which  spirit  takes  wing. 

Yet,  as  gradation  is  the  beautiful  secret  of  nature, 
and  the  fashioning  spirit,  which  loves  to  develop  and 
transcend,  loves  no  less  to  moderate,  to  modulate, 
and  harmonize,  it  did  not  mean  by  thus  drawing 
man  onward  to  the  next  state  of  existence,  to  destroy 
his  fitness  for  this.  It  did  not  mean  to  destroy  his 
sympathies  with  the  mineral,  vegetable,  and  animal 
realms,  of  whose  components  he  is  in  great  part 
composed ;  which  were  the  preface  to  his  being,  of 
whom  he  is  to  take  count,  whom  he  should  govern 
as  a  reasoning  head  of  a  perfectly  arranged  body. 
He  was  meant  to  be  the  historian,  the  philosopher, 
the  poet,  the  king  of  this  world,  no  less  than  the 
prophet  of  the  next. 


160          SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

These  functions  should  be  in  equipoise,  and  when 
they  are  not,  when  we  see  excess  either  on  the  natu 
ral  (so  called  as  distinguished  from  the  spiritual,)  or 
the  spiritual  side,  we  feel  that  the  law  is  transgressed. 
And,  if  it  be  the  greatest  sorrow  to  see  brain  merged 
in  body,  to  see  a  man  more  hands  or  feet  than  head, 
so  that  we  feel  he  might,  with  propriety,  be  on  all 
fours  again,  or  even  crawl  like  the  serpent ;  it  is  also 
sad  to  see  the  brain,  too  much  excited  on  some  one 
side,  which  we  call  madness,  or  even  unduly  and 
prematurely,  so  as  to  destroy  in  its  bloom,  the  com 
mon  human  existence  of  the  person,  as  in  the  case 
before  us,  and  others  of  the  poetical  and  prophetical 
existence. 

We  would  rather  minds  should  foresee  less  and  see 
more  surely,  that  death  should  ensue  by  gentler  gra 
dation,  and  the  brain  be  the  governor  and  interpreter, 
rather  than  the  destroyer,  of  the  animal  life.  But,  in 
cases  like  this,  where  the  animal  life  is  prematurely 
broken  up,  and  the  brain  prematurely  exercised,  we 
may  as  well  learn  what  we  can  from  it,  and  believe 
that  the  glimpses  thus  caught,  if  not  as  precious  as 
the  full  view,  are  bright  with  the  same  light,  and 
open  to  the  same  scene. 

There  is  a  family  character  about  all  the  German 
ghosts.  We  find  the  same  features  in  these  stories 
as  in  those  related  by  Jung  Stilling  and  others. 
They  bear  the  same  character  as  the  pictures  by  the 
old  masters,  of  a  deep  and  simple  piety.  She  stands 
before  as,  this  piety,  in  a  full,  high-necked  robe,  a 
simple,  hausfrauish  cap,  a  clear,  straightforward  blue 
eye.  These  are  no  terrible,  gloomy  ghosts  with 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.          161 

Spanish  mantle  or  Italian  dagger.     We  feel  quite  at 
home  with  them,  and  sure  of  their  good  faith. 

To  the  Seherin,  they  were  a  real  society,  constantly 
inspiring  good  thoughts.  The  reference  to  them 
in  these  verses,  written  in  her  journal  shortly  before 
her  death,  is  affecting,  and  shows  her  deep  sense  of 
their  reality.  She  must  have  felt  that  she  had  been 
a  true  friend  to  them,  by  refusing  always,  as  she  did, 
requests  she  thought  wrong,  and  referring  them  to  a 
Saviour. 

Farewell,  my  friends, 
All  farewell, 

God  bless  you  for  your  love  — 
Bless  you  for  your  goodness. 
All  farewell ! 

And  you,  how  shall  I  name  you  1 

Who  have  so  saddened  me, 
I  will  name  you  also  —  Friends; 
You  have  been  discipline  to  me. 

Farewell !  farewell ! 

Farewell !  you  my  dear  ones, 
Soon  will  you  know  l 
How  hard  have  been  my  sufferings 
In  the  Pilgrim  land. 
Farewell ! 

Let  it  not  grieve  you, 
That  my  woes  find  an  end ; 

i  The  physician  thought  she  here  referred  to  the  examination  of  her 
body  that  would  take  place  after  her  death.  The  brain  was  found  to  be 
sound,  though  there  were  marks  of  great  disease  elsewhere. 

14* 


SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES, 

Farewell,  dear  ones, 

Till  the  second  meeting  ; 

Farewell !  Farewell  \ 

In  this  journal  her  thoughts  dwell  much  upon  those 
natural  ties  which  she  was  not  permitted  to  enjoy. 
She  thought  much  of  her  children,  and  often  fancied 
sheJbad  saw  the  one  who  had  died,  growing  in  the 
spirit  land.  Any  allusion  to  them  called  a  sweet 
smile  on  her  face  when  in  her  trance. 

Other  interesting  poems  are  records  of  these  often 
beautiful  visions,  especially  of  that  preceding  her  own 
death  ;  the  address  to  her  life-circle,  the  thought  of 
which  is  truly  great,  (this  was  translated  in  the  Dublin 
Magazine,)  and  descriptions  of  her  earthly  state  as  an 
imprisonment.  The  story  of  her  life,  though  stained 
like  others,  by  partialities,  and  prejudices,  which  were 
not  justly  distinguished  from  what  was  altogether  true 
and  fair,  is  a  poem  of  so  pure  a  music,  presents  such 
gentle  and  holy  images,  that  we  sympathize  fully  in 
the  love  and  gratitude  Kerner  and  his  friends  felt 
towards  her,  as  the  friend  of  their  best  life.  She  was 
a  St.  Theresa  in  her  way. 

His  address, to  her,  with  which  his  volume  closes, 
may  thus  be  translated  in  homely  guise.  In  the  ori 
ginal  it  has  no  merit,  except  as  utteiing  his  affection 
ate  and  reverent  feeling  towards  his  patient,  the 
peasant  girl, —  "the  sick  one,  the  poor  one."  But 
we  like  to  see  how,  from  the  mouths  of  babes  and 
sucklings,  praise  may  be  so  perfected  as  to  command 
this  reverence  from  the  learned  and  worldly-wise. 


THE  SEERESS  OF  PREVORST.         163 

Farewell ;  the  debt  I  owe  thee 

Ever  in  heart  I  bear  ; 
My  soul  sees,  since  I  know  thee, 

The  spirit  depths  so  clear. 

Whether  in  light  or  shade, 

Thy  soul  now  dwelling  hath  ; 
Be,  if  my  faith  should  fade, 

The  guide  upon  my  path. 

Livest  thou  in  mutual  power, 

With  spirits  blest  and  bright, 
O  be,  in  death's  dark  hour, 

My  help  to  heaven's  light. 

Upon  thy  grave  is  growing, 

The  plant  by  thee  beloved,1 
St.  Johns-wort  golden  glowing, 

Like  St.  John's  thoughts  of  love. 

Witness  of  sacred  sorrow, 

Whene'er  thou  meet'st  my  eye, 

O  flower,  from  thee  I  borrow, 
Thoughts  for  eternity. 

Farewell  !  the  woes  of  earth 

No  more  my  soul  affright  ; 
Who  knows  their  temporal  birth 

Can  easy  bear  their  weight. 

I  do  confess  this  is  a  paraphrase,  not  a  translation, 
also,  that  in  the  other  extracts,  I  have  taken  liberties 


1  She  received  great  benefit  from  decoctions  of  this  herb,  and  often 
prescribed  it  to  others. 


164  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

with  the  original  for  the  sake  of  condensation,  and 
clearness.  What  I  have  written  must  be  received  as 
a  slight  and  conversational  account  of  the  work. 

Two  or  three  other  remarks,  I  had  forgotten,  may 
come  in  here. 

The  glances  at  the  spirit-world  have  none  of  that 
large  or  universal  significance,  none  of  that  value  from 
philosophical,  analogy,  that  is  felt. in  any  picture  by 
Swederiborg,  or  Dante,  of  permanent  relations.  The 
mind  of  the  forester's  daughter  was  exalted  and 
rapidly  developed  ;  still  the  wild  cherry  tree  bore 
.no  orange  ;  she  was  not  transformed  into  a  philo 
sophic  or  poetic  organization. 

Yet  many  of  her  untaught  notions  remind  of 
other  seers  of  a  larger  scope.  She,  too,  receives 
this  life  as  one  link  in  a  long  chain  ;  and  thinks  that 
immediately  after -death,  the  meaning  of  the  past  life 
will  appear  to  us  as  one  word. 

She  tends  to  a  belief  in  the  aromal  state,  and  in 
successive  existences  on  this  earth  ;  for  behind  per 
sons  she  often  saw  another  being,  whether  their  form 
in  the  state  before  or  after  this,  1  know  not ;  behind 
a  woman  a  man,  equipped  for  fight,  and  so  forth. 
Her  perception  of  character,  even  in  cases  of  those 
whom  she  saw  only  as  they  passed  her  window,  was 
correct. 

Kerner  aims  many  a  leaden  sarcasm  at  those  who 
despise  his  credulity.  He  speaks  of  those  sages  as 
men  whose  brain  is  a  glass  table,  incapable  of  receiv 
ing  the  electric  spark,  and  who  will  not  believe,  be 
cause,  in  their  mental  isolation,  they  are  incapable  of 
feeling  these  facts. 


MILWAUKEE.  165 

Certainly,  I  think  he  would  be  dull,  who  could  see 
no  meaning  or  beauty  in  the  history  of  the  forester's 
daughter  of  Prevorst.  She  lived  but  nine-and-twenty 
years,  yet,  in  that  time,  had  traversed  a  larger  portion 
of  the  field  of  thought  than  all  her  race  before,  in  their 
many  and  long  lives. 

Of  the  abuses  to  which  all  these  magical  imple 
ments  are  prone,  I  have  an  instance,  since  leaving 
Milwaukie,  in  the  journal  of  a  man  equally  sincere, 
but  not  equally  inspired,  led  from  Germany  hither  by 
signs  and  wonders,  as  a  commissioned  agent  of  Prov 
idence,  who,  indeed,  has  arranged  every  detail  of  his 
life  with  a  minuteness  far  beyond  the  promised  care 
of  the  sparrow.  He  props  himself  by  spiritual  aid 
from  a  maiden  now  in  this  country,  who  was  once  an 
attendant  on  the  Seeress,  and  who  seems  to  have 
caught  from  her  the  contagion  of  trance,  but  not  its 
revelations. 


Do  not  blame  me  that  I  have  written  so  much 
about  Germany  and  Hades,  while  you  were  looking 
for  news  of  the  West.  Here,  on  the  pier,  I  see  dis 
embarking  the  Germans,  the  Norwegians,  the  Swedes, 
the  Swiss.  Who  knows  how  much  of  old  legendary 
lore,  of  modern  wonder,  they  have  already  planted 
arnid  the  Wisconsin  forests  ?  Soon,  soon  their  tales 
of  the  origin  of  things,  and  the  Providence  which 
rules  them,  will  be  so  mingled  with  those  of  the  In 
dian,  that  the  very  oak  trees  will  not  know  them 
apart,  —  will  not  know  whether  itself  be  a  Runic,  a 
Druid,  or  a  Winnebago  oak. 


166  SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

Some  seeds  of  all  growths  that  have  ever  been 
known  in  this  world  might,  no  doubt,  already  be 
found  in  these  Western  wilds,  if  we  had  the  power 
to  call  them  to  life. 

I  saw,  in  the  newspaper,  that  the  American  Tract 
Society  boasted  of  their  agents'  having  exchanged,  at  a 
Western  cabin  door,  tracts  for  the  Devil  on  Two  Sticks, 
and  then  burnt  that  more  entertaining  than  edify 
ing  volume.  No  wonder,  though,  they  study  it  there. 
Could  one  but  have  the  gift  of,  reading  the  dreams 
dreamed  by  men  of  such  various  birth,  various  his 
tory,  various  mind,  it  would  afford  much  more  exten 
sive  amusement  than  did  the  chambers  of  one  Span 
ish  city  ! 

Could  I  but  have  flown  at  night  through  such  men 
tal  experiences,  instead  of  being  shut  up  in  my  little 
bedroom  at  the  Milwaukie  boarding  house,  this  chap 
ter  would  have  been  worth  reading.  As  it  is,  let  us 
hasten  to  a  close. ,-; , , 

Had  I  been  rich  in  money,  I  might  have  built  a 
house,  or  set  up  in  business,  during  my  fortnight's 
stay  at  Milwaukie,  matters  move  on  there  at  so  rapid  a 
rate.  But,  being  only  r.ich  in  curiosity,  I  was  obliged 
to  walk  the  streets  and  pick  up  what  I  could  in  cas 
ual  intercourse.  When  I  left  the  street,  indeed,  and 
walked  on  the  bluffs,  or  sat  beside  the  lake  in  their 
shadow,  my  mind  was  rich  in  dreams  congenial  to  the 
scene,  some  time  to  be  realized,  though  not  by  me. 

A  boat  was  left,  keel  up,  half  on  the  sand,  half  in 
the  water,  swaying  with  each  swell  of  the  lake.  It 
gave  a  picturesque  grace  to  that  part  of  the  shore,  as 
the  only  image  of  inaction  —  only  object  of  a  pensive 


MILWAUKIE.  167 

character  to  be  seen.  Near  this  I  sat,  to  dream  my 
dreams  and  watch  the  colors  of  the  lake,  changing 
hourly,  till  the  sun  sank.  These  hours  yielded  im 
pulses,  wove  webs,  such  as  life  will  not  again  afford. 

Returning  to  the  boarding  house,  which  was  also  a 
boarding  school,  we  were  sure  to  be  greeted  by  gay 
laughter. 

This  school  was  conducted  by  two  girls  of  nine 
teen  and  seventeen  years  ;  their  pupils  were  nearly 
as  old  as-  themselves ;  the  relation  seemed  very  pleas 
ant  between  them.  The  only  superiority — that  of 
superior  knowledge  —  was  sufficient  to  maintain  au 
thority  —  all  the  authority  that  was  needed  to  keep 
daily  life  in  good  order. 

In  the  West,  people  are  not  respected  merely  be 
cause  they  are  old  in  years  ;  people  there  have  not 
time  to  keep  up  appearances  in  that  way ;  when  they 
cease  to  have  a- real  advantage  in  wisdom,  knowledge, 
or  enterprise,  they  must  stand  back,  and  let  those 
who  are  oldest  in  character  "  go  ahead,"  however  few 
years  they  may  count.  There  are  no  banks  of  estab 
lished  respectability  in  which  to  bury  the  talent  there  ; 
no  napkin  of  precedent  in  which  to  wrap  it.  What 
cannot  be  made  to  pass  current,  is  not  esteemed  coin 
of  the  realm. 

To  the  windows  of  this  house,  where  the  daughter 
of  a  famous  "  Indian  fighter,"  i.  e.  fighter  against  the 
Indians,  was  learning  French  and  the  piano,  came 
wild,  tawny  figures,  offering  for  sale  their  baskets  of 
berries.  The  boys  now,  instead  of  brandishing  the 
tomahawk,  tame  their  hands  to  pick  raspberries. 
Here  the  evenings  were  much  lightened  by  the 


168  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

gay  chat  of  one  of  the  party,  who,  with  the  excellent 
practical  sense  of  mature  experience,  and  the  kindest 
heart,  united  a  naivete  and  innocence  such  as  I 
never  saw  in  any  other  who  had  walked  so  long 
life's  tangled  path.  Like  a  child,  she  was  every 
where  at  home,  and  like  a  child,  received  and  be 
stowed  entertainment  from  all  places,  all  persons.  I 
thanked  her  for  making  me  laugh,  as  did  the  sick  and 
poor,  whom  she  was  sure  to  find  out  in  her  briefest 
sojourn  in  any  place,  for  more  substantial  aid.  Hap 
py  are  those  who  never  grieve,  and  so  often  aid  and 
enliven  their  fellow  men  ! 

This  scene,  however,  I  was  not  sorry  to  exchange 
for  the  much  celebrated  beauties  of  the  Island  of 
Mackinaw. 


O 


CHAPTER  VI. 


MACKINAW. 

LATE  at  night  we  reached  this  island,  so  famous 
for  its  beauty,  and  to  which  I.  proposed  a  visit  of 
some  length.  It  was  the  last  week  in  August,  when 
a  large  representation  from  the  Chippewa  and  Otto- 
wa  tribes  are  here  to  receive  their  annual  payments 
from  the  American  government.  As  their  habits 
make  travelling  easy  and  inexpensive  to  them,  nei 
ther  being  obliged  to  wait  for  steamboats,  or  write  to 
see  whether  hotels  are  full,  they  come  hither  by 
thousands,  and  those  thousands  in  families,  secure  of 
accommodation  on  the  beach,  and  food  from  the 
lake,  to  make  a  long  holiday  out  of  the  occasion. 
There  were  near  two  thousand  encamped  on  the 
island  already,  and  more  arriving  every  day. 

As  our  boat  came  in,  the  captain  had  some  rockets 
let  off.  This  greatly  excited  the  Indians,  and  their 
yells  and  wild  cries  resounded  along  the  shore.  Ex 
cept  for  the  momentary  flash  of  the  rockets,  it  was 
perfectly  dark,  and  my  sensations  as  I  walked  with  a 
stranger  to  a  strange  hotel,  through  the  midst  of 
15 


170  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

these  shrieking  savages,  and  heard  the  pants  and 
snorts  of  the  departing  steamer,  which  carried  away 
all  my  companions,  were  somewhat  of  the  dismal 
sort ;  though  it  was  pleasant,  too,  in  the  way  that 
everything  strange  is ;  everything  that  breaks  in  upon 
the  routine  that  so  easily  incrusts  us. 

I  had  reason  to  expect  a  room  to  myself  at  the 
hotel,  but  found  none,  and  was  obliged  to  take  up 
my  rest  in  the  common  parlor  and  eating-room,  a  cir 
cumstance  which  ensured  my  being  an  early  riser. 

With  the  first  rosy  streak,  I  was  out  among  my 
Indian  neighbors,  whose  lodges  honey-combed  the 
beautiful  beach,  that  curved  away  in  long,  fair  outline 
on  either  side  the  house.  They  were  already  on  the 
alert,  the  children  creeping  out  from  beneath  the 
blanket  door  of  the  lodge ;  the  women  pounding 
corn  in  their  rude  mortars,  the  young  men  playing 
on  their  pipes.  I  had  been  much  amused,  when  the 
strain  proper  to  the  Winnebago  courting  flute  was 
played  to  me  on  another  instrument,  at  any  one  fan 
cying  it  a  melody ;  but  now,  when  I  heard  the  notes 
in  their  true  tone  and  time,  I  thought  it  not  unwor 
thy  comparison,  in  its  graceful  sequence,  and  the  light 
flourish,  at  the  close,  with  the  sweetest  bird-songs ; 
and  this,  like  the  bird-song,  is  only  practised  to  allure 
a  mate.  The  Indian,  become  a  citizen  and  a  hus 
band,  no  more  thinks  of  playing  the  flute  than  one 
of  the  "  settled  down  "  members  of  our  society  would 
of  choosing  the  "  purple  light  of  love  "  as  dye-stuff 
for  a  surtout. 

Mackinaw  has  been  fully  described  by  able  pens, 
and  I  can  only  add  my  tribute  to  the  exceeding 


MACKINAW.  171 

beauty  of  the  spot  and  its  position.  It  is  charming 
to  be  on  an  island  so  small  that  you  can  sail  round 
it  in  an  afternoon,  yet  large  enough  to  admit  of  long 
secluded  walks  through  its  gentle  groves.  You  can 
go  round  it  in  your  boat ;  or,  on  foot,  you  can  tread 
its  narrow  beach,  resting,  at  times,  beneath  the  lofty 
walls  of  stone,  richly  wooded,  which  rise  from  it  in 
various  architectural  forms.  In  this  stone,  caves  are 
continually  forming,  from  the  action  of  the  atmos 
phere  ;  one  of  these  is  quite  deep,  and  with  a  frag 
ment  left  at  its  mouth,  wreathed  with  little  creeping 
plants,  that  looks,  as  you  sit  within,  like  a  ruined 
pillar. 

The  arched  rock  surprised  me,  much  as  I  had 
heard  of  it,  from  the  perfection  of  the  arch.  It  is 
perfect  whether  you  look  up  through  it  from  the 
lake,  or  down  through  it  to  the  transparent  waters. 
We  both  ascended  and  descended,  no  very  easy  mat 
ter,  the  steep  and  crumbling  path,  and  rested  at  the 
summit,  beneath  the  trees,  and  at  the  foot  upon  the 
cool  mossy  stones  beside  the  lapsing  wave.  Nature 
has  carefully  decorated  all  this  architecture  with  shrubs 
that  take  root  within  the  crevices,  and  small  creep 
ing  vines.  These  natural  ruins  may  vie  for  beauti 
ful  effect  with  the  remains  of  European  grandeur, 
and  have,  beside,  a  charm  as  of  a  playful  mood  in 
nature. 

The  sugar-loaf  rock  is  a  fragment  in  the  same  kind 
as  the  pine  rock  we  saw  in  Illinois.  It  has  the  same 
air  of  a  helmet,  as  seen  from  an  eminence  at  the 
side,  which  you  descend  by  a  long  and  steep  path. 
The  rock  itself  may  be  ascended  by  the  bold  and 


172  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

agile.  Half  way  up  is  a  niche,  to  which  those,  who 
are  neither,  can  climb  by  a  ladder.  A  very  handsome 
young  officer  and  lady  who  were  with  us  did  so,  and 
then,  facing  round,  stood  there  side  by  side,  looking 
in  the  niche,  if  not  like  saints  or  angels  wrought  by 
pious  hands  in  stone,  as  romantically,  if  not  as  holily, 
worthy  the  gazer's  eye. 

The  woods  which  adorn  the  central  ridge  of  the 
island  are  very  full  in  foliage,  and,  in  August,  showed 
the  tender  green  and  pliant  leaf  of  June  elsewhere. 
They  are  rich  in  beautiful  mosses  and  the  wild  rasp 
berry. 

From  Fort  Holmes,  the  old  fort,  we  had  the  most 
commanding  view  of  the  lake  and  straits,  opposite 
shores,  and  fair  islets.  Mackinaw,  itself,  is  best  seen 
from  the  water.  Its  peculiar  shape  is  supposed  to 
have  been  the  origin  of  its  -name,  Michilimackinac, 
which  means  the  Great  Turtle.  One  person  whom  I 
saw,  wished  to  establish  another  etymology,  which 
he  fancied  to  be  more  refined ;  but,  I  doubt  not,  this 
is  the  true  one,  both  because  the  shape  might  suggest 
such  a  name,  and  that  the  existence  of  an  island  in 
this  commanding  position,  which  did  so,  \vould  seem 
a  significant  fact  to  the  Indians.  For  Henry  gives 
the  details  of  peculiar  worship  paid  to  the  Great  Tur 
tle,  and  the  oracles  received  from  this  extraordinary 
Apollo  of  the  Indian  Delphos. 

It  is  crowned  most  picturesquely,  by  the  white  fort, 
with  its  gay  flag.  From  this,  on  one  side,  stretches 
the  town.  How  pleasing  a  sight,  after  the  raw, 
crude,  staring  assemblage  of  houses,  everywhere  else 
to  be  met  in  this  country,  an  old  French  town,  mel- 


MACKINAW.  173 

low  in  its  coloring,  and  with  the  harmonious  effect  of 
a  slow  growth,  which  assimilates,  naturally,  with  ob 
jects  round  it.  The  people  in  its  streets,  Indian, 
French,  half-breeds,  and  others,  walked  with  a  leisure 
step,  as  of  those  who  live  a  life  of  taste  and  inclina 
tion,  rather  than  of  the  hard  press  of  business,  as  in 
American  towns  elsewhere. 

On  the  other  side,  along  the  fair,  curving  beach, 
below  the  white  houses  scattered  on  the  declivity, 
clustered  the  Indian  lodges,  with  their  amber  brown 
matting,  so  soft,  and  bright  of  hue,  in  the  late  after 
noon  sun.  The  first  afternoon  I  was  there,  looking 
down  from  a  near  height,  I  felt  that  I  never  wished 
to  see  a  more  fascinating  picture.  It  was  an  hour  of 
the  deepest  serenity ;  bright  blue  and  gold,  rich 
shadows.  Every  moment  the  sunlight  fell  more  mel 
low.  The  Indians  were  grouped  and  scattered  among 
the  lodges ;  the  women  preparing  food,  in  the  kettle 
or  frying-pan,  over  the  many  small  fires ;  the  child 
ren,  half-naked,  wild  as  little  goblins,  were  playing 
both  in  and  out  of  the  water.  Here  and  there 
lounged  a  young  girl,  with  a  baby  at  her  back,  whose 
bright  eyes  glanced,  as  if  born  into  a  world  of  cour 
age  and  of  joy,  instead  of  ignominious  servitude  and 
slow  decay.  Some  girls  were  cutting  wood,  a  little 
way  from  me,  talking  and  laughing,  in  the  low  musi 
cal  tone,  so  charming  in  the  Indian  women.  Many 
bark  canoes  were  upturned  upon  the  beach,  and,  by 
that  light,  of  almost  the  same  amber  as  the  lodges. 
Others,  coming  in,  their  square  sails  set,  and  with 
almost  arrowy  speed,  though  heavily  laden  with 
dusky  forms,  and  all  the  apparatus  of  their  house- 
15* 


174  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

hold.  Here  and  there  a  sail-boat  glided  by,  with  a 
different,  but  scarce  less  pleasing  motion. 

It  was  a  scene  of  ideal  loveliness,  and  these  wild 
forms  adorned  it,  as  looking  so  at  home  in  it.  All 
seemed  happy,  and  they  were  happy  that  day,  for 
they  had  no  firewater  to  madden  them,  as  it  was  Sun 
day,  and  the  shops  were  shut. 

From  my  window,  at  the  boarding  house,  my  eye 
was  constantly  attracted  by  these  picturesque  groups. 
I  was  never  tired  of  seeing  the  canoes  come  in,  and 
the  new  arrivals  set  up  their  temporary  dwellings. 
The  women  ran  to  set  up  the  tent-poles,  and  spread 
the  mats  on  the  ground.  The  men  brought  the 
chests,  kettles,  &c.  ;  the  mats  were  then  laid  on  the 
outside,  the  cedar  boughs  strewed  on  the  ground,  the 
blanket  hung  up  for  a  door,  and  all  was  completed  in 
less  than  twenty  minutes.  Then  they  began  to  pre 
pare  the  night  meal,  and  to  learn  of  their  neighbors 
the  news  of  the  day. 

The  habit  of  preparing  food  out  of  doors,  gave  all 
the  gipsy  charm  and  variety  to  their  conduct.  Con 
tinually  I  wanted  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  have  been 
there.  If  such  romantic  sketches  were  suggested 
to  him,  by  the  sight  of  a  few  gipsies,  not  a  group 
near  one  of  these  fires  but  would  have  furnished  him 
material  for  a  separate  canvass.  1  was  so  taken  up 
with  the  spirit  of  the  scene,  that  I  could  not  follow 
out  the  stories  suggested  by  these  weather-beaten, 
sullen,  but  eloquent  figures. 

They  talked  a  great  deal,  and  with  much  variety 
of  gesture,  so  that  I  often  had  a  good  guess  at  the 
meaning  of  their  discourse.  I  saw  that,  whatever  the 


MACKINAW.  175 

Indian  may  be  among  the  whites,  he  is  anything  but 
taciturn  with  his  own  people.  And  he  often  would 
declaim,  or  narrate  at  length,  as  indeed  it  is  obvious, 
that  these  tribes  possess  great  power  that  way,  if 
only  from  the  fables  taken  from  their  stores,  by  Mr. 
Schoolcraft. 

I  liked  very  much  to  walk  or  sit  among  them. 
With  the  women  I  held  much  communication  by 
signs.  They  are  almost  invariably  coarse  and  ugly, 
with  the  exception  of  their  eyes,  with  a  peculiarly 
awkward  gait,  and  forms  bent  by  burthens.  This  gait, 
so  different  from  the  steady  and  noble  step  of  the  men, 
marks  the  inferior  position  they  occupy.  1  had  heard 
much  eloquent  contradiction  of  this.  Mrs.  School- 
craft  had  maintained  to  a  friend,  that  they  were  in 
fact  as  nearly  on  a  par  with  their  husbands  as  the 
white  woman  with  hers.  "  Although,"  said  she,  "  on 
account  of  inevitable  causes,  the  Indian  woman  is 
subjected  to  many  hardships  of  a  peculiar  nature,  yet 
her  position,  compared  with  that  of  the  man,  is  high 
er  and  freer  than  that  of  the  white  woman.  Why 
will  people  look  only  on  one  side  ?  They  either  exalt 
the  Red  man  into  a  Demigod  or  degrade  him  into  a 
beast.  They  say  that  he  compels  his  wife  to  do  all 
the  drudgery,  while  hedoes  nothing  but  hunt  and 
amuse  himself ;  forgetting  that,  upon  his  activity  and 
power  of  endurance  as  a  hunter,  depends  the  support 
of  his  family ;  that  this  is  labor  of  the  most  fatiguing 
kind,  and  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should 
keep  his  frame  unbent  by  burdens  and  unworn  by 
toil,  that  he  may.  be  able  to  obtain  the  means  of  sub 
sistence.  I  have  witnessed  scenes  of  conjugal  and 


176  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

parental  love  in  the  Indian's  wigwam  from  which  I 
have  often,  often  thought  the  educated  white  man, 
proud  of  his  superior  civilization,  might  learn  an  use 
ful  lesson.  When  he  returns  from  hunting,  worn  out 
with  fatigue,  having  tasted  nothing  since  dawn,  his 
wife,  if  she  is  a  good  wife,  will  take  off  his  moccasons 
and  replace  them  with  dry  ones,  and  will  prepare  his 
game  for  their  repast,  while  his  children  will  climb 
upon  him,  and  he  will  caress  them  with  all  the  ten 
derness  of  a  woman  ;  and  in  the  evening  the  Indian 
wigwam  is  the  scene  of  the  purest  domestic  pleasures. 
The  father  will  relate  for  the  amusement  of  the  wife, 
and  for  the  instruction  of  the  children,  all  the  events 
of  the  day's  hunt,  while  they  will  treasure  up  every 
word  that  falls,  and  thus  learn  the  theory  of  the  art, 
whose  practice  is  to  be  the  occupation  of  their  lives. 

Mrs.  Grant  speaks  thus  of  the  position  of  woman 
amid  the  Mohawk  Indians  : 

"  Lady  Mary  Montague  says,  that  the  court  of 
Vienna  was  the  paradise  of  old  women,  and  that 
there  is  no  other  place  in  the  world  where  a  wo 
man  past  fifty  excites  the  least  interest.  Had  her 
travels  extended  to  the  interior  of  North  America,  she 
would  have  seen  another  instance  of  this  inversion  of 
the  common  mode  of  thinking.  Here  a  woman  never 
was  of  consequence,  till  she  had  a  son  old  enough  to 
fight  the  battles  of  his  country.  From  that  date  she 
held  a  superior  rank  in  society  ;  was  allowed  to  live 
at  ease,  and  even  called  to  consultations  on  national 
affairs.  In  savage  and  warlike  countries,  the  reign  of 
beauty  is  very  short,  and  its  influence  comparatively 
limited.  The  girls  in  childhood  had  a  very  pleasing 


MACKINAW.  177 

appearance  ;  but  excepting  their  fine  hair,  eyes,  and 
teeth,  every  external  grace  was  soon  banished  by  per 
petual  drudgery,  carrying  burdens  too  heavy  to  be 
borne,  and  other  slavish  employments  considered  be 
neath  the  dignity  of  the  men.  These  walked  before 
erect  and  graceful,  decked  with  ornaments  which  set 
off  to  advantage  the  symmetry  of  their  well-formed 
persons,  while  the  poor  women  followed,  meanly 
attired,  bent  under  the  weight  of  the  children  and 
utensils,  which  they  carried  everywhere  with  them, 
and  disfigured  and  degraded  by  ceaseless  toils.  They 
were  very  early  married,  for  a  Mohawk  had  no  other 
servant  but  his  wife,  and,  whenever  he  commenced 
hunter,  it  was  requisite  he  should  have  some  one  to 
carry  his  load,  cook  his  kettle,  make  his  moccasons, 
and,  above  all,  produce  the  young  warriors  who  were 
to  succeed  him  in  the  honors  of  the  chase  and  of  the 
tomahawk.  Wherever  man  is  a  mere  hunter,  woman 
is  a  mere  slave.  It  is  domestic  intercourse  that  soft 
ens  man,  and  elevates  woman ;  and  of  that  there  can 
be  but  little,  where  the  employments  and  amusements 
are  not  in  common  ;  the  ancient  Caledonians  honored 
the  fair ;  but  then  it  is  to  be  observed,  they  were  fair 
huntresses,  and  moved  in  the  light  of  their  beauty  to 
the  hill  of  roes ;  and  the  culinary  toils  were  entirely 
left  to  the  rougher  sex.  When  the  young  warrior 
made  his  appearance,  it  softened  the  cares  of  his 
mother,  who  well  knew  that,  when  he  grew  up,  every 
deficiency  in  tenderness  to  his  wife  would  be  made 
up  in  superabundant  duty  and  affection  to  her.  If  it 
were  possible  to  carry  filial  veneration  to  excess,  it 
was  done  here ;  for  all  other  charities  were  absorbed 


178  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

in  it.  I  wonder  this  system  of  depressing  the  sex  in 
their  early  years,  to  exalt  them  when  all  their  juvenile 
attractions  were  flown,  and  when  mind  alone  can  dis 
tinguish  them,  has  not  occurred  to  our  modem  re 
formers.  The  Mohawks  took  good  care  not  to  admit 
their  women  to  share  their  prerogatives,  till  they  ap 
proved  themselves  good  wives  and  mothers." 

The  observations  of  women  upon  the  position  of 
woman  are  always  more  valuable  than  those  of  men ; 
but,  of  these  two,  Mrs.  Grant's  seems  much  nearer  the 
truth  than  Mrs.  Schoolcraft's,  because,  though  her 
opportunities  for  observation  did  not  bring  her  so  close, 
she  looked  more  at  both  sides  to  find  the  truth. 

Carver,  in  his  travels  among  the  Winnebagoes, 
describes  two  queens,  one  nominally  so,  like  Queen 
Victoria;  the  other  invested  with  a  genuine  royalty, 
springing  from  her  own  conduct. 

In  the  great  town  of  the  Winnebagoes,  he  found 
a  queen  presiding  over  the  tribe,  instead  of  a  sa 
chem.  He  adds,  that,  in  some  tribes,  the  descent  is 
given  to  the  female  line  in  preference  to  the  male, 
that  is,  a  sister's  son  will  succeed  to  the  authority, 
rather  than  a  brother's  son. 

The  position  of  this  Winnebago  queen,  reminded 
me  forcibly  of  Queen  Victoria's. 

"  She  sat  in  the  council,  but  only  asked  a  few  ques 
tions,  or  gave  some  trifling  directions  in  matters  rela 
tive  to  the  state,  for  women  are  never  allowed  to  sit  in 
their  councils,  except  they  happen  to  be  invested  with 
the  supreme  authority,  and  then  it  is  not  customary 
for  them  to  make  any  formal  speeches,  as  the  chiefs 
do.  She  was  a  very  ancient  woman,  small  in  stature, 


MACKINAW.  179 

and  not  much  distinguished  by  her  dress  from  several 
young  women  that  attended  her.  These,  her  attend 
ants,  seemed  greatly  pleased  whenever  I  showed  any 
tokens  of  respect  to  their  queen,  especially  when  I 
saluted  her,  which  I  frequently  did  to  acquire  her 
favor." 

The  other  was  a  woman,  who  being  taken  captive, 
found  means  to  kill  her  captor,  and  make  her  escape, 
and  the  tribe  were  so  struck  with  admiration  at  the 
courage  and  calmness  she  displayed  on  the  occasion, 
as  to  make  her  chieftainess  in  her  own  right. 

Notwithstanding  the  homage  paid  to  women,  and 
the  consequence  allowed  her  in  some  cases,  it  is 
impossible  to  look  upon  the  Indian  women,  with 
out  feeling  that  they  do  occupy  a  lower  place  than 
women  among  the  nations  of  European  civilization. 
The  habits  of  drudgery  expressed  in  their  form  and 
gesture,  the  soft  and  wild  but  melancholy  expression 
of  their  eye,  reminded  me  of  the  tribe  mentioned  by 
Mackenzie,  where  the  women  destroy  their  female 
children,  whenever  they  have  a  good  opportunity  ; 
and  of  the  eloquent  reproaches  addressed  by  the 
Paraguay  woman  to  her  mother,  that  she  had  not,  in 
the  same  way,  saved  her  from  the  anguish  and  weari 
ness  of  her  lot. 

More  weariness  than  anguish,  no  doubt,  falls  to  the  lot 
of  most  of  these  women.  They  inherit  submission,  and 
the  minds  of  the  generality  accommodate  themselves 
more  or  tess  to  any  posture.  Perhaps  they  suffer  less 
than  their  white  sisters,  who  have  more  aspiration  and 
refinement,  with  little  power  of  self-sustenance.  But 
their  place  is  certainly  lower,  and  their  share  of  the 
human  inheritance  less. 


180  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

Their  decorum  and  delicacy  are  striking,  and 
show  that  when  these  are  native  to  the  mind,  no 
habits  of  life  make  any  difference.  Their  whole  ges 
ture  is  timid,  yet  self-possessed.  They  used  to 
crowd  round  me,  to  inspect  little  things  I  had  to 
show  them,  but  never  press  near ;  on  the  contrary, 
would  reprove  and  keep  off  the  children.  Anything 
they  took  from  my  hand,  was  held  with  care,  then 
shut  or  folded,  and  returned  with  an  air  of  lady-like 
precision.  They  would  not  stare,  however  curious 
they  might  be,  but  cast  sidelong  glances. 

A  locket  that  I  wore,  was  an  object  of  untiring  in 
terest  ;  they  seemed  to  regard  it  as  a  talisman.  My 
little  sun-shade  was  still  more  fascinating  to  them  ; 
apparently  they  had  never  before  seen  one.  For  an 
umbrella  they  entertain  profound  regard,  probably 
looking  upon  it  as  the  most  luxurious  superfluity  a 
person  can  possess,  and  therefore  a  badge  of  great 
wealth.  I  used  to  see  an  old  squaw,  whose  sullied 
skin  and  coarse,  tanned  locks,  told  that  she  had 
braved  sun  and  storm,  without  a  doubt  or  care,  for 
sixty  years  at  the  least,  sitting  gravely  at  the  door  of 
her  lodge,  with  an  old  green  umbrella  over  her  head, 
happy  for  hours  together  in  the  dignified  shade.  For 
her  happiness  pomp  came  not,  as  it  so  often  does,  too 
late  ;  she  received  it  with  grateful  enjoyment. 

One  day,  as  I  was  seated  on  one  of  the  canoes,  a 
woman  came  and  sat  beside  me,  with  her  baby  in  its 
cradle  set  up  at  her  feet.  She  asked  me  by  a  ges 
ture,  to  let  her  take  my  sun-shade,  and  then  to  show 
her  how  to  open  it.  Then  she  put  it  into  her  baby's 
hand,  and  held  it  over  its  head,  looking  at  me  the 


MACKINAW.  181 

while  with  a  sweet,  mischievous  laugh,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "you  carry  a  thing  that  is  only  fit  for  a  baby ;" 
her  pantomime  was  very  pretty.  She,  like  the  other 
women,  had  a  glance,  and  shy,  sweet  expression  in 
the  eye ;  the  men  have  a  steady  gaze. 

That  noblest  and  loveliest  of  modern  Preux,  Lord 
Edward  Fitzgerald,  who  came  through  Buffalo  to 
Detroit  and  Mackinaw,  with  Brant,  and  was  adopt 
ed  into  the  Bear  tribe  by  the  name  of  Eghnidal,  was 
struck,  in  the  same  way,  by  the  delicacy  of  manners  in 
the  women.  He  says,  "  Notwithstanding  the  life 
they  lead,  which  would  make  most  women  rough  and 
masculine,  they  are  as  soft,  meek  and  modest,  as  the 
best  brought  up  girls  in  England.  Somewhat  co 
quettish  too  !  Imagine  the  manners  of  Mimi  in  a 
poor  squaw,  that  has  been  carrying  packs  in  the 
Woods  all  her  life." 

McKenney  mentions  that  the  young  wife,  during 
the  short  bloom  of  her  beauty,  is  an  object  of  homage 
and  tenderness  to  her  husband.  One  Indian  woman, 
the  Flying  Pigeon,  a  beautiful,  an  excellent  woman,  of 
whom  he  gives  some  particulars,  is  an  instance  of  the 
power  uncommon  characters  will  always  exert  of 
breaking  down  the  barriers  custom  has  erected  round 
them.  She  captivated  by  her  charms,  and  inspired 
with  reverence  for  her  character,  her  husband  and 
son.  The  simple  praise  with  which  the  husband  in 
dicates  the  religion,  the  judgment,  and  the  generosity 
he  saw  in  her,  are  as  satisfying  as  Count  Zinzendorf 's 
more  labored  eulogium  on  his  "  noble  consort."  The 
conduct  of  her  son,  when,  many  years  after  her  death, 
he  saw  her  picture  at  Washington,  is  unspeakably 
16 


182 


SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 


affecting.  Catlin  gives  anecdotes  of  the  grief  of  a 
chief  for  the  loss  of  a  daughter,  and  the  princely  gifts 
he  offers  in  exchange  for  her  portrait,  worthy  not 
merely  of  European,  but  of  Troubadour  sentiment. 
It  is  also  evident  that,  as  Mrs.  Schoolcraft  says,  the 
women  have  great  power  at  home.  It  can  never  be 
otherwise,  men  being  dependent  upon  them  for  the 
comfort  of  their  lives.  Just  so  among  ourselves, 
wives  who  are  neither  esteemed  nor  loved  by  their 
husbands,  have  great  power  over  their  conduct  by  the 
friction  of  every  day,  and  over  the  formation  of  their 
opinions  by  the  daily  opportunities  so  close  a  relation 
affords,  of  perverting  testimony  and  instilling  doubts. 
But  these  sentiments  should  not  come  in  brief  flashes, 
but  burn  as  a  steady  flame,  then  there  would  be  more 
women  worthy  to  inspire  them.  This  power  is  good 
for  nothing,  unless  the  woman  be  wise  to  use  it 
aright.  Has  the  Indian,  has  the  white  woman,  as 
noble  a  feeling  of  life  and  its  uses,  as  religious  a  self- 
respect,  as  worthy  a  field  of  thought  and  action,  as 
man  ?  If  not,  the  white  woman,  the  Indian  woman, 
occupies  an  inferior  position  to  that  of  man.  It  is 
not  so  much  a  question  of  power,  as  of  privilege. 

The  men  of  these  subjugated  tribes,  now  accus 
tomed  to  drunkenness  and  every  way  degraded,  bear 
but  a  faint  impress  of  the  lost  grandeur  of  the  race. 
They  are  no  longer  strong,  tall,  or  finely  proportion 
ed.  Yet  as  you  see  them  stealing  along  a  height,  or 
striding  boldly  forward,  they  remind  you  of  what  was 
majestic  in  the  red  man. 

On  the  shores  of  lake  Superior,  it  is  said,  if  you 
visit  them  at  home,  you  may  still  see  a  remnant  of 


MACKINAW.  183 

the  noble  blood.  The  Pillagers — (Pilleurs) — a 
band  celebrated  by  the  old  travellers,  are  still  exist- 
ant  there. 

"  Still  some,  *  the  eagles  of  their  tribe,'  may  rush." 

I  have  spoken  of  the  hatred  felt  by  the  white  man 
for  the  Indian  :  with  white  women  it  seems  to  amount 
to  disgust,  to  loathing.  How  I  could  endure  the  dirt, 
the  peculiar  smell  of  the  Indians,  and  their  dwellings, 
was  a  great  marvel  in  the  eyes  of  my  lady  acquaint 
ance  ;  indeed,  I  wonder  why  they  did  not  quite  give 
me  up,  as  they  certainly  looked  on  me  with  great  dis 
taste  for  it.  "  Get  you  gone,  you  Indian  dog,"  was 
the  felt,  if  not  the  breathed,  expression  towards  the 
hapless  owners  of  the  soil.  All  their  claims,  all  their 
sorrows  quite  forgot,  in  abhorrence  of  their  dirt,  their 
tawny  skins,  and  the  vices  the  whites  have  taught 
them. 

A  person  who  had  seen  them  during  great  part  of 
a  life,  expressed  his  prejudices  to  me  with  such  vio 
lence,  that  I  was  no  longer  surprised  that  the  Indian 
children  threw  sticks  at  him,  as  he  passed.  A  lady 
said,  "  do  what  you  will  for  them,  they  will  be  un 
grateful.  The  savage  cannot  be  washed  out  of  them. 
Bring  up  an  Indian  child  and  see  if  you  can  attach  it 
to  you."  The  next  moment,  she  expressed,  in  the 
presence  of  one  of  those  children  whom  she  was 
bringing  up,  loathing  at  the  odor  left  by  one  of  her 
people,  and  one  of  the  most  respected,  as  he  passed 
through  the  room.  When  the  child  is  grown  she  will 
consider  it  basely  ungrateful  not  to  love  her,  as  it 
certainly  will  not ;  and  this  will  be  cited  as  an  instance 
of  the  impossibility  of  attaching  the  Indian. 


184  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

Whether  the  Indian  could,  by  any  efforts  of  love 
and  intelligence  from  the  white  man,  have  been  civil 
ized  and  made  a  valuable  ingredient  in  the  new  state, 
I  will  not  say ;  but  this  we  are  sure  of;  the  French 
Catholics,  at  least,  did  not  harm  them,  nor  disturb 
their  minds  merely  to  corrupt  them.  The  French 
they  loved.  But  the  stern  Presbyterian,  with  his 
dogmas  and  his  task-work,  the  city  circle  and  the 
college,  with  their  niggard  concessions  and  unfeeling 
stare,  have  never  tried  the  experiment.  It  has  not 
been  tried.  Our  people  and  our  government  have 
sinned  alike  against  the  first-born  of  the  soil,  and  if 
they  are  the  fated  agents  of  a  new  era,  they  have 
done  nothing  —  have  invoked  no  god  to  keep  them 
sinless  while  they  do  the  hest  of  fate. 

Worst  of  all,  when  they  invoke  the  holy  power  only 
to  mask  their  iniquity  ;  when  the  felon  trader,  who, 
all  the  week,  has  been  besotting  and  degrading  the 
Indian  with  rum  mixed  with  red  pepper,  and  damaged 
tobacco,  kneels  with  him  on  Sunday  before  a  com 
mon  altar,  to  tell  the  rosary  which  recalls  the  thought 
of  him  crucified  for  love  of  suffering  men,  and  to 
listen  to  sermons  in  praise  of  "  purity" !  ! 

My  savage  friends,  cries  the  old  fat  priest,  you 
must,  above  all  things,  aim  at  purity. 

Oh,  my  heart  swelled  when  I  saw  them  in  a  Chris 
tian  church.  Better  their  own  dog-feasts  and  bloody 
rites  than  such  mockery  of  that  other  faith. 

"  The  dog,"  said  an  Indian,  "  was  once  a  spirit ; 
he  has  fallen  for  his  sin,  and  was  given  by  the  Great 
Spirit,  in  this  shape,  to  man,  as  his  most  intelligent 
companion.  Therefore  we  sacrifice  it  in  highest 


RECEPTION  OF  INDIAN  CHIEFS.        185 

honor  to  our  friends  in  this  world,  —  to  our  protect 
ing  geniuses  in  another." 

There  was  religion  in  that  thought.  The  white 
man  sacrifices  his  own  brother,  and  to  Mammon,  yet 
he  turns  in  loathing  from  the  dog-feast. 

"  You  say,"  said  the  Indian  of  the  South  to  the 
missionary,  "  that  Christianity  is  pleasing  to  God. 
How  can  that  be  ?  —  Those  men  at  Savannah  are 
Christians." 

Yes !  slave-drivers  and  Indian  traders  are  called 
Christians,  and  the  Indian  is  to  be  deemed  less  like 
the  Son  of  Mary  than  they  !  Wonderful  is  the  de 
ceit  of  man's  heart ! 

I  have  not,  on  seeing  something  of  them  in  their 
own  haunts,  found  reason  to  change  the  sentiments 
expressed  in  the  following  lines,  when  a  deputation 
of  the  Sacs  and  Foxes  visited  Boston  in  1837,  and 
were,  by  one  person  at  least,  received  in  a  dignified 
and  courteous  manner. 


GOVERNOR  EVERETT   RECEIVING   THE  INDIAN   CHIEFS, 

NOVEMBER,  1837. 

Who  says  that  Poesy  is  on  the  wane, 
And  that  the  Muses  tune  their  lyres  in  vain  1 
'Mid  all  the  treasures  of  romantic  story, 
When  thought  was  fresh  and  fancy  in  her  glory, 
Has  ever  Art  found  out  a  richer  theme, 
More  dark  a  shadow,  or  more  soft  a  gleam, 
Than  fall  upon  the  scene,  sketched  carelessly, 
In  the  newspaper  column  of  to-day  ? 
16* 


186  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES, 

American  romance  is  somewhat  stale. 

Talk  of  the  hatchet,  and  the  faces  pale, 

Wampum  and  calumets  and  forests  dreary, 

Once  so  attractive,  now  begins  to  weary. 

Uncas  and  Magawisca  please  us  still, 

Unreal,  yet  idealized  with  skill ; 

But  every  poetaster  scribbling  witling, 

From  the  majestic  oak  his  stylus  whittling, 

Has  helped  to  tire  us;  and  to  make  us  fear 

The  monotone  in  which  so  much  we  hear 

Of  "  stoics  of  the  wood/'  and  ""men  without  a  tear." 

Yet  Nature,  ever  buoyant,  ever  young, 

If  let  alone,  will  sing  as  erst  she  sung  ; 

The  course  of  circumstance  gives  back  again 

The  Picturesque,  erewhile  pursued  in  vain ; 

Shows  us  the  fount  of  Romance  is  not  wasted  — 

The  lights  and  shades  of  contrast  not  exhausted. 

Shorn  of  his  strength,  the  Samson  now  must  sue 
For  fragments  from  the  feast  his  fathers  gave, 
The  Indian  dare  not  claim  what  is  his  due, 

But  as  a  boon  his  heritage  must  crave ; 
His  stately  form  shall  soon  be  seen  no  more 
Through  all  his  father's  land,  th'  Atlantic  shore, 
Beneath  the  sun,  to  us  so  kind,  they  melt, 
More  heavily  each  day  our  rule  is  felt ; 
The  tale  is  old,  - —  we  do  as  mortals  must : 
Might  makes  right  here,  but  God  and  Time  are  just. 

So  near  the  drama  hastens  to  its  close, 
On  this  -last  scene  awhile  your  eyes  repose ; 
The  polished  Greek  and  Scythian  meet  again, 
The  ancient  life  is  lived  by  modern  men  — 


RECEPTION  OF  INDIAN  CHIEFS.        187 

The  savage  through  our  busy  cities  walks,  — 

He  in  his  untouched  grandeur  silent  stalks. 

Unmoved  by  all  our  gaieties  and  shows, 

Wonder  nor  shame  can  touch  him  as  he  goes ; 

He  gazes  on  the  marvels  we  have  wrought, 

But  knows  the  models  from  whence  all  was  brought ; 

In  God's  first  temples  he  has  stood  so  oft, 

And  listened  to  the  natural  organ  loft  — 

Has  watched  the  eagle's  flight,  the  muttering  thunder 

heard, 

Art  cannot  move  him  to  a  wondering  word  ; 
Perhaps  he  sees  that  all  this  luxury 
Brings  less  food  to  the  mind  than  to  the  eye ; 
Perhaps  a  simple  sentiment  has  brought 
More  to  him  than  your  arts  had  ever  taught. 
What  are  the  petty  triumphs  Art  has  given, 
To  eyes  familiar  with  the  naked  heaven  ? 

All  has  been  seen  —  dock,  railroad,  and  canal, 
Fort,  market,  bridge,  college,  and  arsenal, 
Asylum,  hospital,  and  cotton  mill, 
The  theatre,  the  lighthouse,  and  the  jail. 
The  Braves  each  novelty,  reflecting,  saw, 
And  now  and  then  growled  out  the  earnest  yaw. 
And  now  the  time  is  come,  't  is  understood, 
When,  having  seen  and  thought  so  much,  a  talk  may  do 
some  good. 

A  well-dressed  mob  have  thronged  the  sight  to  greet, 
And  motley  figures  throng  the  spacious  street ; 
Majestical  and  calm  through  all  they  stride, 
Wearing  the  blanket  with  a  monarch's  pride ; 
The  gazers  stare  and  shrug,  but  can't  deny 
Their  noble  forms  and  blameless  symmetry. 


188  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

If  the  Great  Spirit  their  morale  has  slighted, 

And  wigwam  smoke  their  mental  culture  blighted, 

Yet  the  physique,  at  least,  perfection  reaches, 

In  wilds  where  neither  Combe  nor  Spursheim  teaches ; 

Where  whispering  trees  invite  man  to  the  chase, 

And  bounding  deer  allure  him  to  the  race. 

Would  thou  hadst  seen  it !     That  dark,  stately  band, 

Whose  ancestors  enjoyed  all  this  fair  land, 

Whence  they,  by  force  or  fraud,  were  made  to  flee, 

Are  brought,  the  white  man's  victory  to  see. 

Can  kind  emotions  in  their  proud  hearts  glow, 

As  through  these  realms,  now  decked  by  Art,  they  go  ? 

The  church,  the  school,  the  railroad  and  the  mart  — 

Can  these  a  pleasure  to  their  minds  impart? 

All  once  was  theirs  —  earth,  ocean,  forest,  sky  — 

How  can  they  joy  in  what  now  meets  the  eye  ? 

Not  yet  Religion  has  unlocked  the  soul, 

Nor  Each  has  learned  to  glory  in  the  Whole  ! 

Must  they  not  think,  so  strange  and  sad  their  lot, 
That  they  by  the  Great  Spirit  are  forgot  1 
From  the  far  border  to  which  they  are  driven, 
They  might  look  up  in  trust  to  the  clear  heaven ; 
But  here  —  what  tales  doth  every  object  tell 
Where  Massasoit  sleeps  —  where  Philip  fell ! 

We  take  our  turn,  and  the  Philosopher 
Sees  through  the  clouds  a  hand  which  cannot  err, 
An  unimproving  race,  with  all  their  graces 
And  all  their  vices,  must  resign  their  places  ; 
And  Human  Culture  rolls  its  onward  flood 
Over  the  broad  plains  steeped  in  Indian  blood. 


RECEPTION    OF    INDIAN    CHIEFS.  189 

Such  thoughts  steady  our  faith  ;  yet  there  will  rise 
Some  natural  tears  into  the  calmest  eyes  — 
Which  gaze  where  forest  princes  haughty  go, 
Made  for  a  gaping  crowd  a  raree  show. 

But  this  a  scene  seems  where,  in  courtesy, 
The  pale  face  with  the  forest  prince  could 'vie,   sjbia 
For  One  presided,  who,  for  tact  and  grace, 
In  any  age  had  held  an  honored  place, — 
In  Beauty's  own  dear  day,  had  shone  a  polished  Phidian 
vase  ! 

Oft  have  I  listened  to  his  accents  bland, 

And  owned  the  magic  of  his  silvery  voice, 
In  all  the  graces  which  life's  arts  demand, 
Delighted  by  the  justness  of  his  choice. 
Not  his  the  stream  of  lavish,  fervid  thought,- — 
The  rhetoric  by  passion's  magic  wrought ; 
Not  his  the  massive  style,  the  lion  port, 
Which  with  the  granite  class  of  mind  assort ; 
But,  in  a  range  of  excellence  his  own, 
With  all  the  charms  to  soft  persuasion  known, 
Amid  our  busy  people  we  admire  him  —  "  elegant  and 
lone." 

He  scarce  needs  words,  so  exquisite  the  skill 

Which  modulates  the  tones  to  do  his  will, 

That  the  mere  sound  enough  would  charm  the  ear, 

And  lap  in  its  Elysium  all  who  hear. 

The  intellectual  paleness  of  his  cheek, 

The  heavy  eyelids  and  slow,  tranquil  smile, 
The  well  cut  lips  from  which  the  graces  speak, 

Fit  him  alike  to  win  or  to  beguile ; 
Then  those  words  so  well  chosen,  fit,  though  few, 


190 


SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 


Their  linked  sweetness  as  our  thoughts  pursue, 

We  deem  them  spoken  pearls,  or  radiant  diamond  dew. 

And  never  yet  did  I  admire  the  power 

Which  makes  so  lustrous  every  threadbare  theme  — 
Which  won  for  Lafayette  one  other  hour, 

And  e'en  on  July  Fourth  could  cast  a  gleam  — 
As  now,  when  I  behold  him  play  the  host, 
With  all  the  dignity  which  red  men  boast  — 
With  all  the  courtesy  the  whites  have  lost ;  — 
Assume  the  very  hue  of  savage  mind, 
Yet  in  rude  accents  show  the  thought  refined  ;  — 
Assume  the  naivete  of  infant  age, 
And  in  such  prattle  seem  still  more  a  sage ; 
The  golden  mean  with  tact  unerring  seized, 
A  courtly  critic  shone,  a  simple  savage  pleased ; 
The  stoic  of  the  woods  his  skill  confessed, 
As  all  the  Father  answered  in  his  breast, 
To  the  sure  mark  the  silver  arrow  sped, 
The  man  without  a  tear  a  tear  has  shed ; 
And  thou  hadst  wept,  hadst  thou  been  there,  to  see 
How  true  one  sentiment  must  ever  be, 
In  court  or  camp,  the  city  or  the  wild, 
To  rouse  the  Father's  heart,  you  need  but  name  his  Child. 

;T  was  a  fair  scene  —  and  acted  well  by  all  ; 
So  here 's  a  health  to  Indian  braves  so  tall  — 
Our  Governor  and  Boston  people  all ! 


I  will  copy  the  admirable  speech  of  Governor  Ev 
erett  on  that  occasion,  as  I  think  it  the  happiest  at 
tempt  ever  made  to  meet  the  Indian  in  his  own  way, 
and  catch  the  tone  of  his  mind.  It  was  said,  in  the 


EVERETT'S  SPEECH.  191 

newspapers,  that  Keokuck  did  actually  shed  tears 
when  addressed  as  a  father.  If  he  did  not  with  his 
eyes,  he  well  might  in  his  heart. 


EVERETT'S  SPEECH. 

Chiefs  and  warriors  of  the  Sauks  and  Foxes,  you 
are  welcome  to  our  hall  of  council. 

Brothers  !  you  have  come  a  long  way  from  home  to 
visit  your  white  brethren  ;  we  rejoice  to  take  you  by 
the  hand. 

Brothers !  we  have  heard  the  names  of  your  chiefs 
and  warriors ;  our  brothers,  who  have  travelled  into 
the  West,  have  told  us  a  great  deal  of  the  Sauks  and 
Foxes ;  we  rejoice  to  see  you  with  our  own  eyes,  and 
take  you  by  the  hand. 

Brothers  !  we  are  called  the  Massachusetts.  This 
is  the  name  of  the  red  men  that  once  lived  here. 
Their  wigwams  filled  yonder  field  ;  their  council  fire 
was  kindled  on  this  spot.  They  were  of  the  same 
great  race  as  the  Sauks  and  Misquakuiks. 

Brothers  !  when  our  fathers  came  over  the  great 
waters,  they  were  a  small  band.  The  red  man  stood 
upon  the  rock  by  the  seaside,  and  saw  our  fathers. 
He  might  have  pushed  them  into  the  water  and 
drowned  them.  But  he  stretched  out  his  arm  to  our 
fathers  and  said.  "  Welcome,  white  men  ! "  Our  fa 
thers  were  hungry,  and  the  red  men  gave  them  corn 
and  venison.  Our  fathers  were  cold,  and  the  red  man 
wrapped  them  up  in  his  blanket.  We  are  now  nu 
merous  and  powerful,  but  we  remember  the  kindness 


192  'SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

of  the  red  man  to  our  fathers.  Brothers,  you  are 
welcome ;  we  are  glad  to  see  you. 

Brothers !  our  faces  are  pale,  and  your  faces  are 
dark  ;  but  our  hearts  are  alike.  The  Great  Spirit 
has  made  his  children  of  different  colors,  but  he  loves 
them  all. 

Brothers  !  you  dwell  between  the  Mississippi  and 
the  Missouri.  They  are  mighty  rivers.  They  have 
one  branch  far  East  in  the  Alleghanies,  and  the 
other  far  West  in  the  Rocky  Mountains ;  but  they 
flow  together  at  last  into  one  great  stream,  and  run 
down  together  into  the  sea.  In  like  manner,  the  red 
man  dwells  in  the  West,  and  the  white  man  in  the 
East,  by  the  great  waters  ;  but  they  are  all  one  branch, 
one  family  ;  it  has  many  branches  and  one  head. 

Brothers  !  as  you  entered  our  council  house,  you 
beheld  the  image  of  our  great  Father  Washington. 
It  is  a  cold  stone  —  it  cannot  speak.  But  he  was  the 
friend  of  the  red  man,  and  bad  his  children  live  in 
peace  with  their  red  brethren.  He  is  gone  to  the 
world  of  spirits.  But.  his  words  have  made  a  very 
deep  print  in  our  hearts,  like  the  step  of  a  strong  buf 
falo  on  the  soft  clay  of  the  prairie. 

Brother !  I  perceive  your  little  son  between  your 
knees.  God  preserve  his  life,  my  brother.  He 
grows  up  before  you  like  the  tender  sapling  by  the 
side  of  the  mighty  oak.  May  the  oak  and  the  sap 
ling  flourish  a  long  time  together.  And  when  the 
mighty  oak  is  fallen  to  the  ground,  may  the  young 
tree  fill  its  place  in  the  forest,  and  spread  out  its 
branches  over  the  tribe  like  the  parent  trunk. 

Brothers  !  I  make  you  a  short  talk,  and  again  bid 
you  welcome  to  our  council  hall. 


MISSIONARIES.  193 

Not  often  have  they  been  addressed  with  such 
intelligence  and  tact.  The  few  who  have  not  ap 
proached  them  with  sordid  rapacity,  but  from  love  to 
them,  as  men,  and  souls  to  be  redeemed,  have  most 
frequently  been  persons  intellectually  too  narrow, 
too  straightly  bound  in  sects  or  opinions,  to  throw 
themselves  into  the  character  or  position  of  the  In 
dians,  or  impart  to  them  anything  they  can  make 
available.  The  Christ  shown  them  by  these  mis 
sionaries,  is  to  them  but  a  new  and  more  powerful 
Manito  ;  the  signs  of  the  new  religion,  but  the  fetiches 
that  have  aided  the  conquerors. 

Here  I  will  copy  some  remarks  made  by  a  discern 
ing  observer,  on  the  methods  used  by  the  missionaries, 
and  their  natural  results. 

"  Mr.  —  and  myself  had  a  very  interesting  con 
versation,  upon  the  subject  of  the  Indians,  their  cha 
racter,  capabilities,  &c.  After  ten  years'  experience 
among  them,  he  was  forced  to  acknowledge,  that  the 
results  of  the  missionary  efforts  had  produced  nothing 
calculated  to  encourage.  He  thought  that  there 
was  an  intrinsic  disability  in  them,  to  rise  above,  or 
go  beyond  the  sphere  in  which  they  had  so  long 
moved.  He  said,  that  even  those  Indians  who  had 
been  converted,  and  who  had  adopted  the  habits  of 
civilization,  were  very  little  improved  in  their  real 
character ;  they  were  as  selfish,  as  deceitful,  and  as 
indolent,  as  those  who  were  still  heathens.  They 
had  repaid  the  kindnesses  of  the  missionaries  with  the 
basest  ingratitude,  killing  their  cattle  and  swine,  and 
robbing  them  of  their  harvests,  which  they  wantonly 
destroyed.  He  had  abandoned  the  idea  of  effecting 
17 


194  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

any  general  good  to  the  Indians.  He  had  conscien 
tious  scruples,  as  to  promoting  an  enterprise  so  hope 
less,  as  that  of  missions  among  the  Indians,  by  send 
ing  accounts  to  the  east,  that  might  induce  philan 
thropic  individuals  to  contribute  to  their  support. 
In  fact,  the  whole  experience  of  his  intercourse  with 
them,  seemed  to  have  convinced  him  of  the  irreme 
diable  degradation  of  the  race.  Their  fortitude 
under  suffering,  he  considered  the  result  of  physical 
and  mental  insensibility ;  their  courage,  a  mere  ani 
mal  excitement,  which  they  found  it  necessary  to  in 
flame,  before  daring  to  meet  a  foe.  They  have  no 
constancy  of  purpose ;  and  are,  in  fact,  but  little  su 
perior  to  the  brutes,  in  point  of  moral  development. 
It  is  not  astonishing,  that  one  looking  upon  the  In 
dian  character,  from  Mr.  —  's  point  of  view,  should 
entertain  such  sentiments.  The  object  of  his  inter 
course  with  them  was,  to  make  them  apprehend  the 
mysteries  of  a  theology,  which,  to  the  most  enlight 
ened,  is  an  abstruse,  metaphysical  study  ;  and  it  is 
not  singular,  they  should  prefer  their  pagan  super 
stitions,  which  address  themselves  more  directly  to 
the  senses.  Failing  in  the  attempt  to  christianize, 
before  civilizing  them,  he  inferred,  that,  in  the  intrin 
sic  degradation  of  their  faculties,  the  obstacle  was  to 
be  found." 

Thus  the  missionary  vainly  attempts,  by  once  or 
twice  holding  up  the  cross,  to  turn  deer  and  tigers 
into  lambs  ;  vainly  attempts  to  convince  the  red  man 
that  a  heavenly  mandate  takes  from  him  his  broad 
lands.  He  bows  his  head,  but  does  not  at  heart  ac 
quiesce.  He  cannot.  It  is  not  true  ;  and  if  it  were, 


OBSTACLES.  195 

the  descent  of  blood  through  the  same  channels,  for 
centuries,  had  formed  habits  of  thought  not  so  easily 
to  be  disturbed. 

Amalgamation  would  afford  the  only  true  and  pro 
found  means  of  civilization.  But  nature  seems,  like 
all  else,  to  declare,  that  this  race  is  fated  to  perish. 
Those  of  mixed  blood  fade  early,  and  are  not  gene 
rally  a  fine  race.  They  lose  what  is  best  in  either 
type,  rather  than  enhance  the  value  of  each,  by 
mingling.  There  are  exceptions,  one  or  two  such  I 
know  of,  but  this,  it  is  said,  is  the  general  rule. 

A  traveller  observes,  that  the  white  settlers,  who 
live  in  the  woods,  soon  become  sallow,  lanky,  and 
dejected  ;  the  atmosphere  of  the  trees  does  not  agree 
with  Caucasian  lungs ;  and  it  is,  perhaps,  in  part,  an 
instinct  of  this,  which  causes  the  hatred  of  the  new 
settlers  towards  trees.  The  Indian  breathed  the  at 
mosphere  of  the  forests  freely  ;  he  loved  their  shade. 
As  they  are  effaced  from  the  land,  he  fleets  too ;  a 
part  of  the  same  manifestation,  which  cannot  linger 
behind  its  proper  era. 

The  Chippewas  have  lately  petitioned  the  state  of 
Michigan,  that  they  may  be  admitted  as  citizens ; 
but  this  would  be  vain,  unless  they  could  be  admit 
ted,  as  brothers,  to  the  heart  of  the  white  man.  And 
while  the  latter  feels  that  conviction  of  superiority, 
which  enabled  our  Wisconsin  friend  to  throw  away 
the  gun,  and  send  the  Indian  to  fetch  it,  he  had 
need  to  be  very  good,  and  very  wise,  not  to  abuse 
his  position.  But  the  white  man,  as  yet,  is  a  half- 
tamed  pirate,  and  avails  himself,  as  much  as  ever,  of 
the  maxim,  "Might  makes  right."  All  that  civili- 


196  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

zation  does  for  the  generality,  is  to  cover  up  this  with 
a  veil  of  subtle  evasions  and  chicane,  and  here  and 
there  to  rouse  the  individual  mind  to  appeal  to  heaven 
against  it. 

I  have  no  hope  of  liberalizing  the  missionary,  of 
humanizing  the  sharks  of  trade,  of  infusing  the  con 
scientious  drop  into  the  flinty  bosom  of  policy,  of 
saving  the  Indian  from  immediate  degradation,  and 
speedy  death.  The  whole  sermon  may  be  preached 
from  the  text,  "  Needs  be  that  offences  must  come, 
yet  wo  them  by  whom  they  come."  Yet,  ere  they 
depart,  I  wish  there  might  be  some  masterly  attempt 
to  reproduce,  in  art  or  literature,  what  is  proper  to 
them,  a  kind  of  beauty  and  grandeur,  which  few  of 
the  every-day  crowd  have  hearts  to  feel,  yet  which 
ought  to  leave  in  the  world  its  monuments,  to  inspire 
the  thought  of  genius  through  all  ages.  Nothing  in 
this  kind  has  been  done  masterly  ;  since  it  was  Cle- 
vengers's  ambition,  'tis  pity  he  had  not  opportunity 
to  try  fully  his  powers.  We  hope  some  other  mind 
may  be  bent  upon  it,  ere  too  late. 

At  present  the  only  lively  impress  of  their  passage 
through  the  world  is  to  be  found  in  such  books  as 
Catlin's  and  some  stories  told  by  the  old  travellers,  of 
which  I  purpose  a  brief  account. 

First,  let  me  give  another  brief  tale  of  the  power 
exerted  by  the  white  man  over  the  savage  in  a  trying 
case,  but,  in  this  case,  it  was  righteous,  was  moral 
power. 

"  We  were  looking  over  McKenney's  trip  to  the 
Lakes,  and,  on  observing  the  picture  of  Key-way-no- 
wut,  or  the  Going  Cloud,  Mr.  B.  observed  "  Ah,  that 


KEY-WAY-NO-WUT.  197 

is  the  fellow  I  came  near  having  a  fight  with,"  and  he 
detailed  at  length  the  circumstances.  This  Indian 
was  a  very  desperate  character,  and  whom  all  the 
Leech  lake  band  stood  in  fear  of.  He  would  shoot 
down  any  Indian  who  offended  him,  without  the  least 
hesitation,  and  had  become  quite  the  bully  of  that  part 
of  the  tribe.  The  trader  at  Leech  lake  warned  Mr. 
B.  to  beware  of  him,  and  said  that  he  once,  when  he 
(the  trader)  refused  to  give  up  to  him  his  stock  of 
wild  rice,  went  and  got  his  gun  and  tomahawk,  and 
shook  the  tomahawk  over  his  head,  saying  "  Now, 
give  me  your  wild  rice."  The  trader  complied  with 
his  exaction,  but  not  so  did  Mr.  B.  in  the  adventure 
which  I  am  about  to  relate.  Key-way-no-wut  came 
frequently  to  him  with  furs,  wishing  him  to  give  for 
them  cotton  cloth,  sugar,  flour,  &c.  Mr.  B.  explain 
ed  to  him  that  he  could  not  trade  for  furs,  as  he  was 
sent  there  as  a  teacher,  and  that  it  would  be  like  put 
ting  his  hand  into  the  fire  to  do  so,  as  the  traders 
would  inform  against  him,  and  he  would  be  sent  out 
of  the  country.  At  the  same  time,  he  gave  him  the 
articles  which  he  wished.  Key-way-no-wut  found 
this  a  very  convenient  way  of  getting  what  he  wanted, 
and  followed  up  this  sort  of  game,  until,  at  last,  it 
became  insupportable.  One  day  the  Indian  brought 
a  very  large  otter  skin,  and  said  "  I  want  to  get  for 
this  ten  pounds  of  sugar,  and  some  flour  and  cloth," 
adding,  "  I  am  not  like  other  Indians,  /  want  to  pay 
for  what  I  get.  Mr.  B.  found  that  he  must  either  be 
robbed  of  all  he  had  by  submitting  to  these  exactions, 
or  take  a  stand  at  once.  He  thought,  however,  he 
would  try  to  avoid  a  scrape,  and  told  his  customer  he 
17* 


198  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

had  not  so  much  sugar  to  spare.  "  Give  me  then," 
said  he,  "  what  you  can  spare,"  and  Mr.  B.  thinking 
to  make  him  back  out,  told  him  he  would  give  him 
five  pounds  of  sugar  for  his  skin.  "  Take  it,"  said 
the  Indian.  He  left  the  skin,  telling  Mr.  B.  to  take 
good  care  of  it.  Mr.  B.  took  it  at  once  to  the  trader's 
store,  and  related  the  circumstance,  congratulating 
himself  that  he  had  got  rid  of  the  Indian's  exactions. 
But,  in  about  a  month,  Key-way-no-wut  appeared 
bringing  some  dirty  Indian  sugar,  and  said  "  I  have 
brought  back  the  sugar  that  I  borrowed  of  you,  and  I 
want  my  otter  skin  back."  Mr.  B.  told  him,  "  I 
bought  an  otter  skin  of  you,  but  if  you  will  return 
the  other  articles  you  have  got  for  it,  perhaps  I  can 
get  it  for  you."  "  Where  is  the  skin?"  said  he  very 
quickly,  "  what  have  you  done  with  it  ?"  Mr.  B. 
replied  it  was  in  the  trader's  store,  where  he  (the 
Indian)  could  not  get  it.  At  this  information  he  was 
furious,  laid  his  hands  on  his  knife  and  tomahawk, 
and  commanded  Mr.  B.  to  bring  it  at  once.  Mr.  B. 
found  this  was  the  crisis,  where  he  must  take  a  stand 
or  be  "  rode  over  rough  shod  "  by  this  man  ;  his  wife, 
who  was  present  was  much  alarmed,  and  begged  he 
would  get  the  skin  for  the  Indian,  but  he  told  her 
that  "  either  he  or  the  Indian  would  soon  be  master 
of  his  house,  and  if  she  was  afraid  to  see  it  decided 
which  was  to  be  so,  she  had  better  retire."  He  turn 
ed  to  Key-way-no-wut,  and  addressed  him  in  a  stern 
voice  as  follows  :  "  I  will  not  give  you  the  skin. 
How  often  have  you  come  to  my  house,  and  I  have 
shared  with  you  what  I  had.  I  gave  you  tobacco 
when  you  were  well,  and  medicine  when  you  were 
;  *r] 


INDIAN    ORATOR.  199 

sick,  and  you  never  went  away  from  my  wigwam  with 
your  hands  empty.  And  this  is  the  way  you  return 
my  treatment  to  you.  I  had  thought  you  were  a  man 
and  a  chief,  but  you  are  not,  you  are  nothing  but  an 
old  woman.  Leave  this  house,  and  never  enter  it 
again."  Mr.  B.  said  he  expected  the  Indian  would 
attempt  his  life  when  he  said  this,  but  that  he  had 
placed  himself  in  a  position  so  that  he  could  defend 
himself,  and  he  looked  straight  into  the  Indian's  eye, 
and  like  other  wild  beasts  he  quailed  before  the  glance 
of  mental  and  moral  courage.  He  calmed  down  at 
once,  and  soon  began  to  make  apologies.  Mr.  B. 
then  told  him  kindly,  but  firmly,  that,  if  he  wished 
to  walk  in  the  same  path  with  him,  he  must  walk  as 
straight  as  the  crack  on  the  floor  before  them  ;  adding 
that  he  would  not  walk  with  anybody  who  would 
jostle  him  by  wralking  so  crooked  as  he  had  done. 
He  was  perfectly  tamed,  and  Mr.  B.  said  he  never 
had  .any  more  trouble  with  him." 

The  conviction  here  livingly  enforced  of  the  supe 
riority  on  the  side  of  the  white  man,  was  thus  ex 
pressed  by  the  Indian  orator  at  Mackinaw  while  we 
were  there.  After  the  customary  compliments  about 
sun,  dew,  &c.,  "  This,"  said  he,  "  is  the  difference 
between  the  white  and  the  red  man  ;  the  white  man 
looks  to  the  future  and  paves  trie  way  for  posterity." 
This  is  a  statement  uncommonly  refined  for  an  In 
dian  ;  but  one  of  the  gentlemen  present,  who  under 
stood  the  Chippeway,  vouched  for  it  as  a  literal 
rendering  of  his  phrases  ;  and  he  did  indeed  touch 
the  vital  point  of  difference.  But  the  Indian,  if  he 
understands,  cannot  make  use  of  his  intelligence. 


200          SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

The  fate  of  his  people  is  against  it,  and  Pontiac  and 
Philip  have  no  more  chance,  than  Julian  in  the  times 
of  old. 

Now  that  I  am  engaged  on  this  subject,  let  me 
give  some  notices  of  writings  upon  it,  read  either  at 
Mackinaw  or  since  my  return. 

Mrs.  Jameson  made  such  good  use  of  her  brief 
visit  to  these  regions,  as  leaves  great  cause  to  regret 
she  did  not  stay  longer  and  go  farther  ;  also,  that  she 
did  not  make  more  use  of  her  acquaintance  with,  in 
deed,  adoption  by,  the  Johnson  family.  Mr.  John 
son  seems  to  have  been  almost  the  only  white  man 
who  knew  how  to  regard  with  due  intelligence  and 
nobleness,  his  connexion  with  the  race.  Neither 
French  or  English,  of  any  powers  of  sympathy,  or 
poetical  apprehension,  have  lived  among  the  Indians 
without  high  feelings  of  enjoyment.  Perhaps  no 
luxury  has  been  greater,  than  that  experienced  by 
the  persons,  who,  sent  either  by  trade  or  war,  during 
the  last  century,  into  these  majestic  regions,  found 
guides  and  shelter  amid  the  children  of  the  soil,  and 
recognized  in  a  form  so  new  and  of  such  varied,  yet 
simple,  charms,  the  tie  of  brotherhood. 

But  these,  even  Sir  William  Johnston,  whose  life, 
surrounded  by  the  Indians  in  his  castle  on  the  Mo 
hawk,  is  described  with  such  vivacity  by  Mrs.  Grant, 
have  been  men  better  fitted  to  enjoy  ai.d  adapt  them 
selves  to  this  life,  than  to  observe  and  record  it.  The 
very  faculties  that  made  it  so  easy  for  them  to  live  in 
the  present  moment,  were  likely  to  unfit  them  for 
keeping  its  chronicle.  Men,  whose  life  is  full  and  in 
stinctive,  care  little  for  the  pen.  But  the  father  of 


MRS.    SCHOOLC11AFT.  201 

Mrs.  Schoolcraft  seems  to  have  taken  pleasure  in  ob 
servation  and  comparison,  and  to  have  imparted  the 
same  tastes  to  his  children.  They  have  enough  of 
European  culture  to  have  a  standard,  by  which  to 
judge  their  native  habits  and  inherited  lore. 

By  the  premature  death  of  Mrs.  Schoolcraft  was 
lost  a  mine  of  poesy,  to  which  few  had  access,  and 
from  which  Mrs.  Jameson  would  have  known  how  to 
coin  a  series  of  medals  for  the  history  of  this  ancient 
people.  We  might  have  known  in  clear  outline,  as 
now  we  shall  not,  the  growths  of  religion  and  philos 
ophy,  under  the  influences  of  this  climate  and  scenery, 
from  such  suggestions  as  nature  and  the  teachings 
of  the  inward  mind  presented. 

Now  we  can  only  gather  that  they  had  their  own 
theory  of  the  history  of  this  globe  ;  had  perceived  a 
gap  in  its  genesis,  and  tried  to  fill  it  up  by  the  inter 
vention  of  some  secondary  power,  with  moral  sym 
pathies.  They  have  observed  the  action  of  fire  and 
water  upon  this  earth  ;  also  that  the  dynasty  of 
animals  has  yielded  to  that  of  man.  With  these 
animals  they  have  profound  sympathy,  and  are 
always  trying  to  restore  to  them  their  lost  honors. 
On  the  rattlesnake,  the  beaver,  and  the  bear,  they 
seem  to  look  with  a  mixture  of  sympathy  and  vener 
ation,  as  on  their  fellow  settlers  in  these  realms. 
There  is  something  that  appeals  powerfully  to  the 
imagination  in  the  ceremonies  they  observe,  even  in 
case  of  destroying  one  of  these  animals.  I  will  say 
more  of  this  by-and-by. 

The  dog  they  cherish  as  having  been  once  a  spirit 
of  high  intelligence  ;  and  now  in  its  fallen  and  im- 


202  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

prisoned  state,  given  to  man  as  his  special  companion. 
He  is  therefore  to  them  a  sacrifice  of  peculiar  worth  : 
whether  to  a  guardian  spirit  or  a  human  friend.  Yet 
nothing  would  be  a  greater  violation  than  giving  the 
remains  of  a  sacrificial  feast  to  the  dogs,  or  even 
suffering  them  to  touch  the  bones. 

Similar  inconsistences  may  be  observed  in  the 
treatment  of  the  dog  by  the  white  man.  He  is  the 
most  cherished  companion  in  the  familiar  walks  of 
many  men  ;  his  virtues  form  the  theme  of  poetry 
and  history  ;  the  nobler  races  present  grand  traits, 
and  are  treated  with  proportionate  respect.  Yet  the 
epithets  dog  and  hound,  are  there  set  apart  to  express 
the  uttermost  contempt. 

Goethe,  who  abhorred  dogs,  has  selected  that  ani 
mal  for  the  embodiment  of  the  modern  devil,  who,  in 
earlier  times,  chose  rather  the  form  of  the  serpent. 

There  is,  indeed,  something  that  peculiarly 
breaks  in  on  the  harmony  of  nature,  in  the  bark 
of  the  dog,  and  that  does  not  at  all  correspond 
with  the  softness  and  sagacity  observable  in  his 
eye.  The  baying  the  moon,  I  have  been  inclined 
to  set  down  as  an  unfavorable  indication  ;  but, 
since  Fourier  has  found  out  that  the  moon  is  dead, 
and  "  no  better  than  carrion ;"  and  the  Greeks  have 
designated  her  as  Hecate,  the  deity  of  suicide  and 
witchcraft,  the  dogs  are  perhaps  in  the  right. 

They  have  among  them  the  legend  of  the  car 
buncle,  so  famous  in  oriental  mythos.  Adair  states 
that  they  believe  this  fabulous  gem  may  be  found  on 
the  spot  where  the  rattlesnake  has  been  destroyed. 

If  they  have  not  the  archetypal  man,  they  have  the 


MUCKWA.  203 

archetypal  animal,  "  the  grandfather  of  all  beavers ;" 
to  them,  who  do  not  know  the  elephant,  this  is  the 
symbol  of  wisdom,  as  the  rattlesnake  and  bear  of 
power. 

I  will  insert  here  a  little  tale  about  the  bear,  which 
has  not  before  appeared  in  print,  as  representing 
their  human  way  of  looking  on  these  animals,  even 
when  engaged  in  their  pursuit.  To  me  such  stories 
give  a  fine  sense  of  the  lively  perceptions  and  exer 
cise  of  fancy,  enjoyed  by  them  in  their  lives  of  wood 
craft  : 

MUCKWA,   OR  THE  BEAR. 

A  young  Indian,  who  lived  a  great  while  ago,  when 
he  was  quite  young  killed  a  bear  ;  and  the  tribe  from 
that  circumstance  called  him  Muckwa.  As  he  grew 
up  he  became  an  expert  hunter,  and  his  favorite  game 
was  the  bear,  mafty  of  which  he  killed.  One  day  he 
started  off  to  a  river  far  remote  from  the  lodges  of  his 
tribe,  and  where  berries  and  grapes  were  very  plenty, 
in  pursuit  of  bears.  He  hunted  all  day  but  found 
nothing  ;  and  just  at  night  he  came  to  some  lodges 
which  he  thought  to  be  those  of  some  of  his  tribe. 
He  approached  the  largest  of  them,  lifted  the  curtain 
at  its  entrance,  and  went  in,  when  he  perceived  the 
inmates  to  be  bears,  who  were  seated  around  the 
fire  smoking.  He  said  nothing,  but  seated  himself 
also  and  smoked  the  pipe  which  they  offered  him, 
in  silence.  An  old  grey  bear,  who  was  the  chief, 
ordered  supper  to  be  brought  for  him,  and  after  he  had 
eaten  it,  addressed  him  as  follows  :  "  My  son,  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  come  among  us  in  a  friendly  manner. 
You  have  been  a  great  hunter,  and  all  the  she-bears 


204  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

of  our  tribe  tremble  when  they  hear  your  name.  But 
cease  to  trouble  us,  and  come  and  live  with  me  ;  we 
have  a  very  pleasant  life,  living  upon  the  fruits  of  the 
earth  ;  and  in  the  winter,  instead  of  being  obliged  to 
hunt  and  travel  through  the  deep  snow,  we  sleep 
soundly  until  the  sun  unchains  the  streams,  and 
makes  the  tender  buds  put  forth  for  our  subsistence. 
I  will  give  you  my  daughter  for  a  wife,  and  we  will 
live  happily  together."  Muckwa  was  inclined  to 
accept  the  old  bear's  offer ;  but  when  he  saw  the 
daughter,  who  came  and  took  off  his  wet  moccasons, 
arid  gave  him  dry  ones,  he  thought  that  he  had  never 
seen  any  Indian  woman  so  beautiful.  He  accepted 
the  offer  of  the  chief  of  the  bears,  and  lived  with  his 
wife  very  happily  for  some  time.  He  had  by  her  two 
sons,  one  of  whom  was  like  an  Indian,  and  the  other 
like  a  bear.  When  the  bear-child  was  oppressed 
with  heat,  his  mother  would  take  him  into  the  deep 
cool  caves,  while  the  Indian-child  would  shiver  with 
cold,  and  cry  after  her  in  vain.  As  the  autumn  ad 
vanced,  the  bears  began  to  go  out  in  search  of  acorns, 
and  then  the  she-bear  said  to  Muckwa,  "  Stay  at  home 
here  and  watch  our  house,  while  I  go  to  gather  some 
nuts."  She  departed  and  was  gone  for  some  days 
with  her  people.  By-and-by  Muckwa  became  tired 
of  staying  at  home,  and  thought  that  he  would  go 
off  to  a  distance  and  resume  his  favorite  bear-hunting. 
He  accordingly  started  off,  and  at  last  came  to  a  grove 
of  lofty  oaks,  which  were  full  of  large  acorns.  He 
found  signs  of  bear,  and  soon  espied  a  fat  she-bear 
on  the  top  of  a  tree.  He  shot  at  her  with  a  good 
aim,  and  she  fell,  pierced  by  his  unerring  arrow.  He 


MTJCKWA.  205 

went  up  to  her,  and  found  it  was  his  sister-in-law, 
who  reproached  him  with  his  cruelty,  and  told  him 
to  return  to  his  own  people.  Muckwa  returned 
quietly  home,  and  pretended  not  to  have  left  his 
lodge.  However,  the  old  chief  understood,  and  was 
disposed  to  kill  him  in  revenge  ;  but  his  wife  found 
means  to  avert  her  father's  anger.  The  winter 
season  now  coming  on,  Muckwa  prepared  to  accom 
pany  his  wife  into  winter  quarters  ;  they  selected  a 
large  tamarack  tree,  which  was  hollow,  and  lived 
there  comfortably  until  a  party  of  hunters  discovered 
their  retreat.  The  she-bear  told  Muckwa  to  remain 
quietly  in  the  tree,  and  that  she  would  decoy  off  the 
hunters  She  came  out  of  the  hollow,  jumped  from 
a  bough  of  the  tree,  and  escaped  unharmed,  although 
the  hunters  shot  after  her.  Some  time  after,  she  re 
turned  to  the  tree,  and  told  Muckwa  that  he  had 
better  go  back  to  his  own  people.  "  Since  you  have 
lived  among  us,"  said  she,  "  we  have  nothing  but  ill- 
fortune  ;  you  have  killed  my  sister  ;  and  now  your 
friends  have  followed  your  footsteps  to  our  retreats  to 
kill  us.  The  Indian  and  the  bear  cannot  live  in  the 
same  lodge,  for  the  Master  of  Life  has  appointed  for 
them  different  habitations."  So  Muckwa  returned 
with  his  son  to  his  own  people  ;  but  he  never  after 
would  shoot  a  she-bear,  for  fear  that  he  should  kill 
his  wife." 

I  admire  this  story  for  the  savoir  faire,  the  non 
chalance,  the  Vivian  Greyism  of  Indian  life.  It  is 
also  a  poetical  expression  of  the  sorrows  of  unequal 
relations  ;  those  in  which  the  Master  of  Life  was  not 
consulted.  Is  it  not  pathetic  ;  the  picture  of  the 
18 


206  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

mother  carrying  off  the  child  that  was  like  herself  into 
the  deep,  cool  caves,  while  the  other,  shivering  with 
cold,  cried  after  her  in  vain  ?  The  moral,  too,  of 
Muckwa's  return  to  the  bear  lodges,  thinking  to  hide 
his  sin  by  silence,  while  it  was  at  once  discerned  by 
those  connected  with  him,  is  fine. 

We  have  a  nursery  tale,  of  which  children  never 
weary,  of  a  little  boy  visiting  a  bear  house  and  hold 
ing  intercourse  with  them  on  terms  as  free  as  Muck- 
wa  did.  So,  perhaps,  the  child  of  Norman-Saxon 
blood,  no  less  than  the  Indian,  finds  some  pulse  of  the 
Orson  in  his  veins. 

As  they  loved  to  draw  the  lower  forms  of  nature 
up  to  them,  divining  their  histories,  and  imitating 
their  ways,  in  their  wild  dances  and  paintings  ;  even 
so  did  they  love  to  look  upward  and  people  the  at 
mosphere  that  enfolds  the  earth,  with  fairies  and 
manitoes.  The  sister,  obliged  to  leave  her  brother 
on  the  earth,  bids  him  look  up  at  evening,  and  he 
will  see  her  painting  her  face  in  the  west. 

All  places,  distinguished  in  any  way  by  nature, 
aroused  the  feelings  of  worship,  which,  however 
ignorant,  are  always  elevating.  See  as  instances  in 
this  kind,  the  stories  of  Nanabojou,  and  the  Winne- 
bago  Prince,  at  the  falls  of  St.  Anthony. 

As  with  the  Greeks,  beautiful  legends  grow  up 
which  express  the  aspects  of  various  localities. 
From  the  distant  sand-banks  in  the  lakes,  glitter 
ing  in  the  sun,  come  stories  of  enchantresses  comb 
ing,  on  the  shore,  the  long  golden  hair  of  a  beauti 
ful  daughter.  The  Lorelei  of  the  Rhine,  with  her 
syren  song,  and  the  sad  events  that  follow,  is  found 
on  the  lonely  rocks  of  Lake  Superior. 


THE    YOUNG    WARRIOR.  207 

The  story  to  which  I  now  refer,  may  be  found  in. 
a  book  called  Life  on  the  Lakes,  or,  a  Trip  to  the 
Pictured  Rocks.  There  are  two  which  purport  to  be 
Indian  tales  ;  one  is  simply  a  romantic  narrative,  con 
nected  with  a  spot  at  Mackinaw,  called  Robinson's 
Folly.  This,  no  less  than  the  other,  was  unknown 
to  those  persons  I  saw  on  the  island  ;  but  as  they 
seem  entirely  beyond  the  powers  of  the  person  who 
writes  them  down,  and  the  other  one  has  the  profound 
and  original  meaning  of  Greek  tragedy,  I  believe  they 
must  be  genuine  legends. 

The  one  I  admire  is  the  story  of  a  young  warrior, 
who  goes  to  keep,  on  these  lonely  rocks,  the  fast 
which  is  to  secure  him  vision  of  his  tutelary  spirit. 
There  the  loneliness  is  broken  by  the  voice  of  sweet 
music  from  the  water.  The  Indian  knows  well  that 
to  break  the  fast,  which  is  the  crisis  of  his  life,  by 
turning  his  attention  from  seeking  the  Great  Spirit, 
to  any  lower  object,  will  deprive  him  through  life  of 
heavenly  protection,  probably  call  down  the  severest 
punishment. 

But  the  temptation  is  too  strong  for  him  ;  like  the 
victims  of  the  Lorelei,  he  looks,  like  them  beholds  a 
maiden  of  unearthly  beauty,  to  him  the  harbinger  of 
earthly  wo. 

The  development  of  his  fate,  that  succeeds  ;  of 
love,  of  heart-break,  of  terrible  revenge,  which  back 
upon  itself  recoils,  may  vie  with  anything  I  have 
ever  known  of  stern  tragedy,  is  altogether  unlike 
any  other  form,  and  with  all  the  peculiar  expression 
we  see  lurking  in  the  Indian  eye.  The  demon  is 
not  frightful  and  fantastic,  like  those  that  haunt  the 


208  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

German  forest  ;  but  terribly  human,  as  if  of  full 
manhood,  reared  in  the  shadow  of  the  black  forests. 
An  Indian  sarcasm  vibrates  through  it,  which,  with 
Indian  fortitude,  defies  the  inevitable  torture. 

The  Indian  is  steady  to  that  simple  creed,  which 
forms  the  basis  of  all  this  mythology  ;  that  there  is  a 
God,  and  a  life  beyond  this;  aright  and  wrong  which 
each  man  can  see,  betwixt  which  each  man  should 
choose ;  that  good  brings  with  it  its  reward  and  vice 
its  punishment.  Their  moral  code,  if  not  refined  as 
that  of  civilized  nations,  is  clear  and  noble  in  the 
stress  laid  upon  truth  and  fidelity.  And  all  unpreju 
diced  observers  bear  testimony  that  the  Indians,  un 
til  broken  from  their  old  anchorage  by  intercourse 
with  the  whites,  wrho  oflfer  them,  instead,  a  religion  of 
which  they  furnish  neither  interpretation  nor  exam 
ple,  were  singularly  virtuous,  if  virtue  be  allowed  to 
consist  in  a  man's  acting  up  to  his  own  ideas  of  right. 

Old  Adair,  who  lived  forty  years  among  the  In 
dians ;  not  these  tribes,  indeed,  but  the  southern  In 
dians,  does  great  justice  to  their  religious  aspiration. 
He  is  persuaded  that  they  are  Jews,  and  his  main  ob 
ject  is  to  identify  their  manifold  ritual,  and  customs 
connected  with  it,  with  that  of  the  Jews.  His  narra 
tive  contains  much  that  is  worthless,  and  is  written  in 
the  most  tedious  manner  of  the  folios.  But  his  devo 
tion  to  the  records  of  ancient  Jewry,  has  really  given 
him  power  to  discern  congenial  traits  elsewhere,  and 
for  the  sake  of  what  he  has  expressed  of  the  noble 
side  of  Indian  character,  we  pardon  him  our  having 
to  wade  through  so  many  imbecilities. 

An    infidel,  he    says,  is,  in    their   language,  "  one 


OLD    ADAIR.  209 

who  has  shaken  hands  with  the  accursed  speech  ; "  a 
religious  man,  "one  who  has  shaken  hands  with  the 
beloved  speech."  If  this  be  a  correct  definition,  we 
could  wish  Adair  more  religious. 

He  gives  a  fine  account  of  their  methods  of  puri 
fication.  These  show  a  deep  reliance  on  the  sus 
taining  Spirit.  By  fasting  and  prayer  they  make 
ready  for  all  important  decisions  and  actions.  Even 
for  the  war  path,  on  which  he  is  likely  to  endure 
such  privations,  the  brave  prepares  by  a  solemn  fast. 
His  reliance  is  on  the  spirit  in  which  he  goes  forth. 

We  may  contrast  with  the  opinion  of  the  mission 
ary,  as  given  on  a  former  page,  the  testimony  of  one, 
who  knew  them  as  Adair  did,  to  their  heroism  under 
torture. 

He  gives  several  stories,  illustrative  both  of  their 
courage,  fortitude,  and  resource  in  time  of  peril,  of 
which  I  will  cite  only  the  two  first. 

"  The  Shawano  Indians  took  a  Muskohge  warrior, 
known  by  the  name  of  "  Old  Scrany ;"  they  bastina 
doed  him  in  the  usual  manner,  and  condemned  him 
to  the  fiery  torture.  He  underwent  a  great  deal, 
without  showing  any  concern ;  his  countenance  and 
behavior  were  as  if  he  suffered  not  the  least  pain,  and 
was  formed  beyond  the  common  laws  of  nature.  He 
told  them,  with  a  bold  voice,  that  he  was  a  very  no 
ted  warrior,  and  gained  most  of  his  martial  prefer 
ments  at  the  expense  of  their  nation,  and  was  desir 
ous  of  showing  them  in  the  act  of  dying  that  he  was 
still  as  much  their  superior,  as  when  he  headed  his 
gallant  countrymen  against  them.  That,  although  he 
had  fallen  into  their  hands,  in  forfeiting  the  protection 
18* 


210  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

of  the  divine  power,  by  some  impurity  or  other,  yet 
he  had  still  so  much  virtue  remaining,  as  would  ena 
ble  him  to  punish  himself  more  exquisitely  than  all 
their  despicable,  ignorant  crowd  could  possibly  do, 
if  they  gave  him  liberty  by  untying  him,  and  would 
hand  to  him  one  of  the  red  hot  gun-barrels  out  of  the 
fire.  The  proposal,  and  his  method  of  address,  ap 
peared  so  exceedingly  bold  and  uncommon,  that  his 
request  was  granted.  Then  he  suddenly  seized  one 
end  -of  the  red  hot  barrel,  and,  brandishing  it  from 
side  to  side,  he  found  his  way  through  the  armed  and 
surprised  multitude,  arid  leaped  down  a  prodigious 
steep  and  high  bank  into  a  branch  of  the  river,  dived 
through  it,  ran  over  a  small  island,  passed  the  other 
branch  amidst  a  shower  of  bullets,  and,  though  num 
bers  of  his  eager  enemies  were  in  close  pursuit  of 
him,  he  got  to  a  bramble  swamp,  and  in  that  naked, 
mangled  condition,  reached  his  own  country.  He 
proved  a  sharp  thorn  in  their  side  afterwards,  to  the 
day  of  his  death. 

The  Shawano  also  captivated  a  warrior  of  the 
Anantooiah,  and  put  him  to  the  stake,  according  to 
their  usual  cruel  solemnities.  Having  unconcernedly 
suffered  much  sharp  torture,  he  told  them  with  scorn, 
they  did  not  know  how  to  punish  a  noted  enemy, 
therefore  he  was  willing  to  teach  them,  and  would 
confirm  the  truth  of  his  assertion,  if  they  allowed  him 
the  opportunity.  Accordingly  he  requested  of  them 
a  pipe  and  some  tobacco,  which  was  given  him ;  as 
soon  as  he  lighted  it,  "he  sat  down,  naked  as  he  was, 
on  the  women's  burning  torches,  that  were  within  his 
circle,  and  continued  smoking  his  pipe  without  the 


OLD    ADAIR. 

least  discomposure.  On  this  a  head  warrior  leaped 
up,  and  said  they  had  seen,  plain  enough,  that  he  was 
a  warrior,  and  not  afraid  of  dying  ;  nor  should  he  have 
died,  but  that  he  was  both  spoiled  by  the  fire,  and 
devoted  to  it  by  their  laws ;  however,  though  he  was 
a  very  dangerous  enemy,  and  his  nation  a  treacherous 
people,  it  should  appear  they  paid  a  regard  to 
bravery,  even  in  one,  who  was  marked  over  the  body 
with  war  streaks  at  the  cost  of  many  lives  of  their 
beloved  kindred.  And  then,  by  way  of  favor,  he, 
with  his  friendly  tomahawk,  put  an  end  to  all  his 
pains  :  though  this  merciful  but  bloody  instrument 
was  ready  some  minutes  before  it  gave  the  blow,  yet, 
I  was  assured,  the  spectators  could  not  perceive  the 
sufferer  to  change,  either  his  posture,  or  his  steady, 
erect  countenance  in  the  least." 

Some  stories  as  fine,  but  longer,  follow.  In  re 
ference  to  which  Adair  says,  "  The  intrepid  behavior 
of  these  red  stoics,  their  surprising  contempt  of  and 
indifference  to  life  or  death,  instead  of  lessening, 
helps  to  confirm  our  belief  of  that  supernatural  power, 
which  supported  the  great  number  of  primitive  mar 
tyrs,  who  sealed  the  Christian  faith  with  their  blood. 
The  Indians  have  as  much  belief  and  expectation  of 
a  future  state,  as  the  greater  part  of  the  Israelites 
seem  to  have.  But  the  Christians  of  the  first  centu 
ries,  may  justly  be  said  to  exceed  even  the  most  he 
roic  American  Indians,  for  they  bore  the  bitterest 
persecution  with  steady  patience,  in  imitation  of  their 
divine  leader  Messiah,  in  full  confidence  of  divine 
support  and  of  a  glorious  recompense  of  reward  ; 
and,  instead  of  even  wishing  for  revenge  on  their 


SUMMER    ON    THE    LAKES. 

cruel  enemies  and  malicious  tormentors,  (which  is 
the  chief  principle  that  actuates  the  Indians,)  they 
not  only  forgave  them,  but,  in  the  midst  of  their  tor 
tures,  earnestly  prayed  for  them,  with  composed 
countenances,  sincere  love,  and  unabated  fervor.  And 
not  only  men  of  different  conditions,  but  the  delicate 
women  and  children  suffered  with  constancy,  and 
died  praying  for  their  tormentors  :  the  Indian  women 
and  children,  and  their  young  men  untrained  to  war, 
are  incapable  of  displaying  the  like  patience  and 
magnanimity." 

Thus  impartially  looks  the  old  trader.  I  meant 
to  have  inserted  other  passages,  that  of  the  encamp 
ment  at  Yowanne,  and  the  horse  race  to  which  he 
challenged  them,  to  show  how  well  he  could  convey 
in  his  garrulous  fashion  the  whole  presence  of  Indian 
life.  That  of  Yowanne,  especially,  takes  my  fancy 
much,  by  its  wild  and  subtle  air,  and  the  old-nurse 
fashion  in  which  every  look  and  gesture  is  detailed. 
His  enjoyment,  too,  at  outwitting  the  Indians  in  their 
own  fashion  is  contagious.  There  is  a  fine  history 
of  a  young  man  driven  by  a  presentiment  to  run 
upon  his  death.  But  I  find,  to  copy  these  stories,  as 
they  stand,  would  half  fill  this  little  book,  and  com 
pression  would  spoil  them,  so  I  must  wait  some 
other  occasion. 

The  story,  later,  of  giving  an  Indian  liquid  fire  to 
swallow,  I  give  at  full  length,  to  show  how  a  kind- 
hearted  man  and  one  well  disposed  towards  them, 
can  treat  them,  and  view  his  barbarity  as  a  joke. 
It  is  not  then  so  much  wonder,  if  the  trader,  with 
this  same  feeling  that  they  may  be  treated,  (as  how- 


DEATH    OF    RED    SHOES.  213 

ever  brutes  should  not  be;)  brutally,  mixes  red  pepper 
and  damaged  tobacco  with  the  rum,  intending  in 
their  fever  to  fleece  them  of  all  they  possess. 

Like  Murray  and  Henry,  he  has  his  great  Indian 
chief,  who  represents  what  the  people  should  be,  as 
Pericles  and  Phocion  what  the  Greek  people  should 
be.  If  we  are  entitled  to  judge  by  its  best  fruits 
of  the  goodness  of  the  tree,  Adair's  Red  Shoes,  and 
Henry's  Wawatam,  should  make  us  respect  the  first 
possessors  of  our  country,  and  doubt  whether  we  are 
in  all  ways  worthy  to  fill  their  place.  Of  the  whole 
tone  of  character,  judgment  may  be  formed  by  what 
is  said  of  the  death  of  Red  Shoes. 

"  This  chief,  by  his  several  transcendent  qualities 
had  arrived  at  the  highest  pitch  of  the  red  glory.  .  .  . 

He  was  murdered,  for  the  sake  of  a  French  re 
ward,  by  one  of  his  own  countrymen.  He  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  taken  very  sick  on  the  road,  and  to 
lodge  apart  from  the  camp,  according  to  their  custom. 
A  Judas,  tempted  by  the  high  reward  of  the  French 
for  killing  him,  officiously  pretended  to  take  great 
care  of  him.  While  Red  Shoes  kept  his  face  toward 
him,  the  barbarian  had  such  feelings  of  awe  and  pity 
that  he  had  not  power  to  perpetrate  his  wicked  de 
sign  ;  but  when  he  turned  his  back,  then  gave  the 
fatal  shot.  In  this  manner  fell  this  valuable  brave 
man,  by  hands  that  would  have  trembled  to  attack 
him  on  an  equality." 

Adair,  with  all  his  sympathy  for  the  Indian,  mixes 
quite  unconsciously  some  white  man's  views  of  the 
most  decided  sort.  For  instance,  he  recommends  that 
the  tribes  be  stimulated  as  much  as  possible  to  war 


214  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

with  each  other,  that  they  may  the  more  easily  and 
completely  be  kept  under  the  dominion  of  the  whites, 
and  he  gives  the  following  record  of  brutality  as  quite 
a  jocose  and  adroit  procedure. 

"  I  told  him,  on  his  importuning  me  further,  that  I 
had  a  full  bottle  of  the  water  of  am  hoome,  "  bitter 
ears,"  meaning  long  pepper,  of  which  he  was  igno 
rant.  We  were  of  opinion  that  his  eager  thirst  for 
liquor,  as  well  as  his  ignorance  of  the  burning  quality 
of  the  pepper,  would  induce  the  bacchanal  to  try  it. 
He  accordingly  applauded  my  generous  disposition, 
and  said  his  heart  had  all  along  told  him  I  would  not 
act  beneath  the  character  I  bore  among  his  country 
people.  The  bottle  was  brought,  I  laid  it  on  the  ta 
ble,  and  then  told  him,  as  he  was  spitting  very  much, 
(a  general  custom  among  the  Indians  when  they  are 
eager  for  anything,)  if  I  drank  it  all  at  one  sitting  it 
would  cause  me  to  spit  in  earnest,  as  I  used  it  only 
when  I  ate,  and  then  very  moderately ;  but  though  I 
loved  it,  if  his  heart  was  very  poor  for  it,  I  should  be 
silent,  and  not  the  least  grudge  him  for  pleasing  his 
mouth.  He  said,  c  your  heart  is  honest,  indeed ;  I 
thank  you,  for  it  is  good  to  my  heart,  and  makes  it 
greatly  to  rejoice.'  Without  any  further  ceremony 
he  seized  the  bottle,  uncorked  it,  and  swallowed  a 
large  quantity  of  the  burning  liquid,  till  he  was  near 
ly  strangled.  He  gasped  for  a  considerable  time,  and 
as  soon  as  he  recovered  his  breath,  he  said  Hah,  and 
soon  after  kept  stroking  his  throat  with  his  right 
hand.  When  the  violence  of  this  burning  draught 
was  pretty  well  over,  he  began  to  flourish  away  in 
praise  of  the  strength  of  the  liquor  and  bounty  of 


INDIAN    CUSTOMS.  215 

the  giver.  He  then  went  to  his  companion  and  held 
the  liquor  to  his  mouth  according  to  custom,  till  he 
took  several  hearty  swallows.  This  Indian  seemed 
rather  more  sensible  of  its  fiery  quality  than  the  other, 
for  it  suffocated  him  for  a  considerable  time  ;  but  as 
soon  as  he  recovered  his  breath,  he  tumbled  about 
the  floor  like  a  drunken  person.  In  this  manner  they 
finished  the  whole  bottle,  into  which  two  others  had 
been  decanted.  The  burning  liquor  so  highly  in 
flamed  their  bodies,  that  one  of  the  Choctaws,  to  cool 
his  inward  parts,  drank  water  till  he  almost  burst ; 
the  other,  rather  than  bear  the  ridicule  of  the  people, 
and  the  inward  fire  that  distracted  him,  drowned  him 
self  the  second  night  after  in  a  broad  and  shallow 

clay  hole ^--;.  Vw-*'-^*     .... 

There  was  an  incident  similar,  which  happened 
among  the  Cherokees.  When  all  the  liquor  was  ex 
pended  the  Indians  went  home,  leading  with  them,  at 
my  request,  those  that  were  drunk.  One,  however, 
soon  came  back,  and  earnestly  importuned  me  for 
more  Nawahti,  which  signifies  both  physic  and  spirit 
uous  liquor.  They,  as  they  are  now  become  great 
liars,  suspect  all  others  of  being  infected  with  their 
own  disposition  and  principles.  The  more  I  excused 
myself,  the  more  anxious  he  grew,  so  as  to  become 
offensive.  I  then  told  him  I  had  only  one  quarter  of 
a  bottle  of  strong  physic,  which  sick  people  might 
drink  in  small  quantities,  for  the  cure  of  inward 
pains  :  and,  laying  it  down  before  him,  I  declared  I 
did  not  on  any  account  choose  to  part  with  it,  but  as 
his  speech  had  become  very  long  and  troublesome,  he 
might  do  just  as  his  heart  directed  him  concerning  it. 


216  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

He  took  it  up,  saying,  his  heart  was  very  poor  for 
physic,  but  he  would  cure  it,  and  make  it  quite 
straight.  The  bottle  contained  three  gills  of  strong 
spirits  of  turpentine,  which,  in  a  short  time  he  drank 
off.  Such  a  quantity  would  have  demolished  me  or 
any  white  person.  The  Indians,  in  general,  are 
either  capable  of  suffering  exquisite  pain  longer  than 
we  are,  or  of  showing  more  constancy  and  compo 
sure  in  their  torments.  The  troublesome  visiter  so*bn 
tumbled  down  and  foamed  prodigiously.  I  then  sent 
for  some  of  his  relations  to  carry  him  home.  They 
came  ;  I  told  them  he  drank  greedily,  and  too  much 
of  the  physic.  They  said,  it  was  his  usual  custom, 
when  the  red  people  bought  the  English  physic.  They 
gave  him  a  decoction  of  proper  herbs  and  roots,  the 
next  day  sweated  him,  repeated  the  former  draught, 
and  he  got  well.  As  these  turpentine  spirits  did  not 
inebriate  him,  but  only  inflamed  his  intestines,  he 
well  remembered  the  burning  quality  of  my  favorite 
physic,  and  cautioned  the  jest  from  ever  teasing  me 
for  any  physic  I  had  concealed  in  any  sort  of  bottles 
for  my  own  use ;  otherwise  they  might  be  sure  it 
would  spoil  them  like  the  eating  of  fire." 

We  are  pleased  to  note  that  the  same  white  man, 
who  so  resolutely  resisted  the  encroachments  of  Key- 
way-no-wut,  devised  a  more  humane  expedient  in  a 
similar  dilemma. 

"  Mr.  B.  told  me  that,  when  he  first  went  into  the 
Indian  country,  they  got  the  taste  of  his  peppermint, 
and,  after  that,  colics  prevailed  among  them  to  an 
alarming  extent,  till  Mrs.  B.  made  a  strong  decoction 
of  flagroot,  and  gave  them  in  place  of  their  favorite 


CARVER.  217 

medicine.  This  effected,  as  might  be  supposed,  a 
radical  cure." 

I  am  inclined  to  recommend  Adair  to  the  patient 
reader,  if  such  may  be  found  in  these  United  States, 
with  the  assurance  that,  if  he  will  have  tolerance  for 
its  intolerable  prolixity  and  dryness,  he  will  find,  on 
rising  from  the  book,  that  he  has  partaken  of  an  in 
fusion  of  real  Indian  bitters,  such  as  may  not  be 
drawn  from  any  of  the  more  attractive  memoirs  on 
the  same  subject. 

Another  book  of  interest,  from  its  fidelity  and  can 
did  spirit,  though  written  without  vivacity,  and  by  a 
person  neither  of  large  mind  nor  prepared  for  various 
inquiry,  is  Carver's  Travels,  "  for  three  years  through 
out  the  interior  parts  of  America,  for  more  than  five 
thousand  miles." 

He  set  out  from  Boston  in  "  June,  1786,  and  pro 
ceeded,  by  way  of  Albany  and  Niagara,  to  Michili- 
mackinac,  a  fort  situated  between  the  Lakes  Huron 
and  Michigan,  and  distant  from  Boston  1300  miles." 

It  is  interesting  to  follow  his  footsteps  in  these  lo 
calities,  though  they  be  not  bold  footsteps. 

He  mentions  the  town  of  the  Sacs,  on  the  Wiscon 
sin,  as  the  largest  and  best  built  he  saw,  "  com 
posed  of  ninety  houses,  each  large  enough  for  several 
families.  These  are  built  of  hewn  plank,  neatly 
jointed,  and  covered  with  bark  so  compactly  as  to 
keep  out  the  most  penetrating  rains.  Before  the 
doors  are  placed  comfortable  sheds,  in  which  the  in 
habitants  sit,  when  the  weather  -svill  permit,  and 
smoke  their  pipes.  The  streets  are  regular  and  spa- 
19 


218  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

cious.  In  their  plantations,  which  lie  adjacent  to 
their  houses,  and  which  are  neatly  laid  out,  they  raise 
great  quantities  of  Indian  corn,  beans  and  melons." 

Such  settlements  compare  very  well  with  those 
which  were  found  on  the  Mohawk.  It  was  of  such 
that  the  poor  Indian  was  thinking,  whom  our  host 
saw  gazing  on  the  shore  of  Nomabbin  lake. 

He  mentions  the  rise  and  fall .  of  the  lake-waters, 
by  a  tide  of  three  feet,  once  in  seven  years,  —  a  phe 
nomenon  not  yet  accounted  for. 

His  view  of  the  Indian  character  is  truly  impartial. 
He  did  not  see  it  so  fully  drawn  out  by  circumstances 
as  Henry  did,  (of  whose  narrative  we  shall  presently 
speak,)  but  we  come  to  similar  results  from  the  two 
witnesses.  They  are  in  every  feature  Romans,  as  de 
scribed  by  Carver,  arid  patriotism  their  leading  im 
pulse.  He  deserves  the  more  credit  for  the  justice 
he  is  able  to  do  them,  that  he  had  undergone  the 
terrors  of  death  at  their  hands,  .when  present  at  the 
surrender  of  one  of  the  forts,  and  had  seen  them  in 
that  mood  which  they  express  by  drinking  the  blood 
and  eating  the  hearts  of  their  enemies,  yet  is  able  to 
understand  the  position  of  their  minds,  and  allow  for 
their  notions  of  duty. 

No  selfish  views,  says  he,  influence  their  advice,  or 
obstruct  their  consultations. 

Let  me  mention  here  the  use  they  make  of  their 
vapor  baths.  "  When  about  to  decide  on  some  im 
portant  measure,  they  go  into  them,  thus  cleansing 
the  skin  and  carrying  off  any  peccant  humors,  so  that 
the  body  may,  as  little  as  possible,  impede  the  mind 
by  any  ill  conditions."  -  •£#> 


CARVER.  219 

They  prepare  the  bath  for  one  another  when  any 
arrangement  is  to  be  made  between  families,  on  the 
opposite  principle  to  the  whites,  who  make  them 
drunk  before  bargaining  with  them.  The  bath  serves 
them  instead  of  a  cup  of  coffee,  to  stimulate  the  think 
ing  powers. 

He  mentions  other  instances  of  their  kind  of  deli 
cacy,  which,  if  different  from  ours,  was,  perhaps, 
more  rigidly  observed. 

Lovers  never  spoke  of  love  till  the  daylight  was 
quite  gone. 

"  If  an  Indian  goes  to  visit  any  particular  person  in 
a  family,  he  mentions  for  whom  his  visit  is  intended, 
and  the  rest  of  the  family,  immediately  retiring  to  the 
other  end  of  the  hut  or  tent,  are  careful  not  to  come 
near  enough  to  interrupt  them  during  the  whole  of 
the  conversation." 

In  cases  of  divorce,  which  was  easily  obtained,  the 
advantage  rested  with  the  woman.  The  reason  given 
is  indeed  contemptuous  toward  her,  but  a  chivalric 
direction  is  given  to  the  contempt. 

"  The  children  of  the  Indians  are  always  distin 
guished  by  the  name  of  the  mother,  and,  if  a  woman 
marries  several  husbands,  and  has  issue  by  each  of 
them,  they  are  called  after  her.  The  reason  they 
give  for  this  is,  that,  '  as  their  offspring  are  indebted 
to  the  father  for  the  soul,  the  invisible  part  of  their 
essence,  and  to  the  mother  for  their  corporeal  and  ap 
parent  part,  it  is  most  rational  that  they  should  be 
distinguished  by  the  name  of  the  latter,  from  whom 
they  indubitably  derive  their  present  being.'  " 

This  is  precisely  the  division  of  functions  made  by 


220  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

Ovid,  as  the  father  sees  Hercules  perishing  on  the 
funeral  pyre. 

"  Nee  nisi  materna  Vulcanum  parte  potentem 
Sentiet.     JElernum.  est  a  me  quod  traxit  et  expers 
Atque  immune  necis,  nullaqe  domabile  flamma." 

He  is  not  enough  acquainted  with  natural  history 
to  make  valuable  observations.  He  mentions,  how 
ever,  as  did  my  friend,  the  Indian  girl,  that  those 
splendid  flowers,  the  Wickapee  and  the  root  of  the 
Wake-Robin,  afford  valuable  medicines.  Here,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  Lobelia,  nature  has  blazoned  her 
drug  in  higher  colors  than  did  ever  quack  doctor. 

He  observes  some  points  of  resemblance  between 
the  Indians  and  Tartars,  but  they  are  trivial,  and  not 
well  considered.  He  mentions  that  the  Tartars  have 
the  same  custom,  with  some  of  these  tribes,  of  shaving 
all  the  head  except  a  tuft  on  the  crown.  Catlin  says 
this  is  intended  to  afford  a  convenient  means  by 
which  to  take  away  the  scalp ;  for  they  consider  it 
a  great  disgrace  to  have  the  foeman  neglect  this,  as  if 
he  considered  the  conquest,  of  which  the  scalp  is  the 
certificate,  no  addition  to  his  honors. 

"  The  Tartars,"  he  says,  "  had  a  similar  custom  of 
sacrificing  the  dog;  and  among  the  Kamschatkans 
was  a  dance  resembling  the  dog-dance  of  our  In 
dians." 

My  friend,  who  joined  me  at  Mackinaw,  happened, 
on  the  homeward  journey,  to  see  a  little  Chinese 
girl,  who  had  been  sent  over  by  one  of  the  missions, 
and  observed  that,  in  features,  complexion,  and 
gesture,  she  was  a  counterpart  to  the  little  Indian 


HENRY. 

girls  she  had  just  seen  playing  about  on  the  lake 
shore. 

The  parentage  of  these  tribes  is  still  an  interest 
ing  subject  of  speculation,  though,  if  they  be  not 
created  for  this  region,  they  have  become  so  assimi 
lated  to  it  as  to  retain  little  trace  of  any  other.  To 
me  it  seems  most  probable,  that  a  peculiar  race  was 
bestowed  on  each  region,  as  the  lion  on  one  latitude 
and  the  white  bear  on  another.  As  man  has  two  na 
tures  —  one,  like  that  of  the  plants  and  animals, 
adapted  to  the  uses  and  enjoyments  of  this  planet, 
another,  which  presages  and  demands  a  higher  sphere 
—  he  is  constantly  breaking  bounds,  in  proportion  as 
the  mental  gets  the  better  of  the  mere  instinctive  ex 
istence.  As  yet,  he  loses  in  harmony  of  being  what 
he  gains  in  height  and  extension ;  the  civilized  man 
is  a  larger  mind,  but  a  more  imperfect  nature  than 
the  savage. 

It  is  pleasant  to  meet,  on  the  borders  of  these  two 
states,  one  of  those  persons  who  combines  some  of 
the  good  qualities  of  both  ;  not,  as  so  many  of  these 
adventurers  do,  the  rapaciousness  and  cunning  of  the 
white,  with  the  narrowness  and  ferocity  of  the  sav 
age,  but  the  sentiment  and  thoughtfulness  of  the  one, 
with  the  boldness,  personal  resource,  and  fortitude  of 
the  other. 

Such  a  person  was  Alexander  Henry,  who  left 
Quebec  in  1760,  for  Mackinaw  and  the  Sault  St. 
Marie,  and  remained  in  those  regions,  of  which  he 
has  given  us  a  most  lively  account,  sixteen  years. 

His  visit  to  Mackinaw  was  premature  ;  the  Indians 
were  far  from  satisfied  ;  they  hated  their  new  mas- 
19* 


222  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

ters.  From  the  first,  the  omens  were  threatening, 
and  before  many  months  passed,  the  discontent  ended 
in  the  seizing  of  the  fort  at  Mackinaw  and  massacre 
of  its  garrison  ;  on  which  occasion  Henry's  life  was 
saved  by  a  fine  act  of  Indian  chivalry. 

Wawatam,  a  distinguished  chief,  had  found  him 
self  drawn,  by  strong  affinity,  to  the  English  stranger. 
He  had  adopted  him  as  a  brother,  in  the  Indian  mode. 
When  he  found  that  his  tribe  had  determined  on  the 
slaughter  of  the  whites,  he  obtained  permission  to 
take  Henry  away  with  him,  if  he  could.  But  not 
being  able  to  prevail  on  him,  as  he  could  not  assign 
the  true  reasons,  he  went  away  deeply  saddened,  but 
not  without  obtaining  a  promise  that  his  brother 
should  not  be  injured.  The  reason  he  was  obliged 
to  go,  was,  that  his  tribe  felt  his  affections  were 
so  engaged,  that  his  self-command  could  not  be 
depended  on  to  keep  their  secret.  Their  promise 
was  not  carefully  observed,  and,  in  consequence  of 
the  baseness  of  a  French  Canadian  in  whose  house 
Henry  took  refuge,  —  baseness  such  as  has  not, 
even  by  their  foes,  been  recorded  of  any  Indian,  his 
life  was  placed  in  great  hazard.  But  Wawatam  re 
turned  in  time  to  save  him.  The  scene  in  which  he 
appears,  accompanied  by  his  wife  —  who  seems  to 
have  gone  hand  in  hand  with  him  in  this  matter  — 
lays  down  all  his  best  things  in  a  heap,  in  the  middle 
of  the  hall,  as  a  ransom  for  the  captive,  and  his  little, 
quiet  speech,  are  as  good  as  the  Iliad.  They  have 
the  same  simplicity,  the  same  lively  force  and  ten 
derness. 

Henry  goes  away  with  his  adopted  brother,  and 


HENRY.  223 

lives  for  some  time  among  the  tribe.  The  details 
of  this  life  are  truly  interesting.  One  time  he  is  lost 
for  several  days  while  on  the  chase.  The  description 
of  these  weary,  groping  days,  the  aspect  of  nat 
ural  objects  and  of  the  feelings  thus  inspired,  and  the 
mental  change  after  a  good  night's  sleep,  form  a  little 
episode  worthy  the  epic  muse.  He  stripped  off  the 
entire  bark  of  a  tree  for  a  coverlet  in  the  snow-storm, 
going  to  sleep  with  "  the  most  distracted  thoughts  in 
the  world,  while  the  wolves  around  seemed  to  know 
the  distress  to  which  he  was  reduced  ;  "  but  he  waked 
in  the  morning  another  man,  clear-headed,  able  to 
think  out  the  way  to  safety. 

When  living  in  the  lodge,  he  says :  "  At  one  time 
much  scarcity  of  food  prevailed.  We  were  often 
twenty-four  hours  without  eating ;  and  when  in  the 
morning  we  had  no  victuals  for  the  day  before  us, 
the  custom  was  to  black  our  faces  with  grease  and 
charcoal,  and  exhibit,  through  resignation, a  temperas 
cheerful  as  in  the  midst  of  plenty."  This  wise  and 
dignified  proceeding  reminds  one  of  a  charming  ex 
pression  of  what  is  best  in  French  character,  as  de 
scribed  by  Rigolette,  in  the  Mysteries  of  Paris,  of 
the  household  of  Pere  Cretu  and  Rarnonette. 

He  bears  witness  to  much  virtue  among  them. 
Their  superstitions,  as  described  by  him,  seem  child 
like  and  touching.  He  gives  with  much  humor, 
traits  that  show  their  sympathy  with  the  lower  ani 
mals,  such  as  I  have  mentioned.  He  speaks  of  them 
as,  on  the  whole,  taciturn,  because  their  range  of 
topics  is  so  limited,  and  seems  to  have  seen  nothing 
of  their  talent  for  narration.  Catlin,  on  the  contrary, 


224          SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

describes  them  as  lively  and  garrulous,  and  says,  that 
their  apparent  taciturnity  among  the  whites  is  owing 
to  their  being  surprised  at  what  they  see,  and  unwil 
ling,  from  pride,  to  show  that  they  are  so,  as  well  as 
that  they  have  little  to  communicate  on  their  side, 
that  they  think  will  be  valuable. 

After  peace  was  restored,  and  Henry  lived  long  at 
Mackinaw  and  the  Sault  St.  Marie,  as  a  trader,  the 
traits  of  his  biography  and  intercourse  with  the  In 
dians,  are  told  in  the  same  bold  and  lively  style.  I 
wish  I  had  room  for  many  extracts,  as  the  book  is 
rare. 

He  made  a  journey  one  winter  on  snow  shoes,  to 
Prairie  du  Chien,  which  is  of  romantic  interest  as 
displaying  his  character.  His  companions  could  not 
travel  nearly  so  fast  as  he  did,  and  detained  him  on 
the  way.  Provisions  fell  short ;  soon  they  were  ready 
to  perish  of  starvation.  Apprehending  this,  on  a  long 
journey,  in  the  depth  of  winter,  broken  by  no  hospit 
able  station,  Henry  had  secreted  some  chocolate. 
When  he  saw  his  companions  ready  to  lie  down  and 
die,  he  would  heat  water,  boil  in  it  a  square  of  this, 
and  give  them.  By  the  heat  of  the  water  and  the 
fancy  of  nourishment,  they  would  be  revived,  and 
induced  to  proceed  a  little  further.  At  last  they  saw 
antlers  sticking  up  from  the  ice,  and  found  the  body 
of  an  elk,  which  had  sunk  in  and  been  frozen  there, 
and  thus  preserved  to  save  their  lives.  On  this  "  and 
excellent  soup"  made  from  bones  they  found  they 
were  sustained  to  their  journey's  end ;  thus  furnish 
ing,  says  Henry,  one  other  confirmation  of  the  truth, 
that  "  despair  was  not  made  for  man  ;  "  this  expres- 


HENRY.  225 

sion,  and  his  calm  consideration  for  the  Canadian  wo 
men  that  was  willing  to  betray  him  to  death,  denote 
the  two  sides  of  a  fine  character. 

He  gives  an  interesting  account  of  the  tribe  called 
"  The  Weepers,"  on  account  of  the  rites  with  which 
they  interrupt  their  feasts  in  honor  of  their  friends. 

He  gives  this  humorous  notice  of  a  chief,  called 
"  The  Great  Road." 

"  The  chief,  to  whose  kindly  reception  we  were  so 
much  indebted,  was  of  a  complexion  rather  darker 
than  that  of  the  Indians  in  general.  His  appearance 
was  greatly  injured  by  the  condition  of  his  hair,  and 
this  was  the  result  of  an  extraordinary  superstition. 

"  The  Indians  universally  fix  upon  a  particular  ob 
ject  as  sacred  to  themselves  —  as  the  giver  of  pros 
perity  and  as  their  preserver  from  evil.  The  choice 
is  determined  either  by  a  dream  or  some  strong  predi 
lection  of  fancy,  and  usually  falls  upon  an  animal,  part 
of  an  animal,  or  something  else  which  is  to  be  met 
with  by  land,  or  by  water ;  but  the  Great  Road  had 
made  choice  of  his  hair,  placing,  like  Samson,  all  his 
safety  in  this  portion  of  his  proper  substance  !  His  hair 
was  the  fountain  of  all  his  happiness  ;  it  was  his  strength 
and  his  weapon  —  his  spear  and  his  shield.  It  preserved 
him  in  battle,  directed  him  in  the  chase,  watched  over 
him  in  the  march,  and  gave  length  of  days  to  his 
wives  and  children.  Hair,  of  a  quality  like  this,  was 
not  to  be  profaned  by  the  touch  of  human  hands.  I 
was  assured  that  it  never  had  been  cut  nor  combed 
from  his  childhood  upward,  and  that  when  any  part 
of  it  fell  from  his  head,  he  treasured  that  part  with 
care ;  meanwhile,  it  did  not  escape  all  care,  even 


226  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

while  growing  on  the  head,  but  was  in  the  especial 
charge  of  a  spirit,  who  dressed  it  while  the  owner 
slept.  The  spirit's  style  of  hair-dressing  was  pecu 
liar,  the  hair  being  matted  into  ropes,  which  spread  in 
all  directions." 

I  insert  the  following  account  of  a  visit  from  some 
Indians  to  him  at  Mackinaw,  with  a  design  to  frighten 
him,  and  one  to  Carver,  for  the  same  purpose,  as  very 
descriptive  of  Indian  manners  : 

"At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  Chippeways 
came  to  my  house,  about  sixty  in  number,  and 
headed  by  Mina-va-va-na,  their  chief.  They  walk 
ed  in  single  file,  each  with  his  tomahawk  in  one 
hand,  and  scalping  knife  in  the  other.  Their  bodies 
were  naked,  from  the  waist  upwards,  except  in  a  few 
examples,  where  blankets  were  thrown  loosely  over 
the  shoulders.  Their  faces  were  painted  with  char 
coal,  worked  up  with  grease ;  their  bodies  with  white 
clay  in  patterns  of  various  fancies.  Some  had  feathers 
thrust  through  their  noses,  and  their  heads  decorated 
with  the  same.  It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  on  the  sen 
sations  with  which  I  beheld  the  approach  of  this  un 
couth,  if  not  frightful,  assemblage." 

"  Looking  out,  I  saw  about  twenty  naked  young  In 
dians,  the  most  perfect  in  their  shape,  and  by  far  the 
handsomest  I  had  ever  seen,  coming  towards  me,  and 
dancing  as  they  approached  to  the  music  of  their 
drums.  At  every  ten  or  twelve  yards  they  halted, 
and  set  up  their  yells  and  cries. 

When  they  reached  my  tent  I  asked  them  to  come 
in,  which,  without  deigning  to  make  me  any  answer, 
they  did.  As  I  observed  they  were  painted  red  and 


CARVER.  227 

black,  as  they  are  when  they  go  against  an  enemy, 
and  perceived  that  some  parts  of  the  war-dance 
were  intermixed  with  their  other  movements,  I 
doubted  not  but  they  were  set  on  by  the  hostile 
chief  who  refused  my  salutation.  I  therefore  de 
termined  to  sell  my  life  as  dearly  as  possible.  To 
this  purpose  I  received  them  sitting  on  my  chest, 
with  my  gun  and  pistols  beside  me  ;  and  ordered 
my  men  to  keep  a  watchfuleye  on  them,  and  be 
also  on  their  guard. 

The  Indians  being  .entered,  they  continued  their 
dance  alternately,  singing  at  the  same  time  of  their 
heroic  exploits,  and  the  superiority  of  their  race  over 
every  other  people.  To  enforce  their  language, 
though  it  was  uncommonly  nervous  and  expressive, 
and  such  as  would  of  itself  have  carried  terror  to 
the  firmest  heart  ;  at  the  end  of  every  period  they 
struck  their  war-clubs  against  the  poles  of  my  tent 
with  such  violence,  that  I  expected  every  moment 
it  would  have  tumbled  upon  us.  As  each  of  them 
in  dancing  round  passed  by  me,  they  placed  their 
right  hands  over  their  eyes,  and  coming  close  to 
me,  looked  me  steadily  in  the  face,  which  I  could 
not  construe  into  a  token  of  friendship.  My  men 
gave  themselves  up  for  lost  ;  and  I  acknowledge  for 
my  own  part,  that  I  never  found  my  apprehensions 
more  tumultuous  on  any  occasion." 

He  mollified  them,  however,  in  the  end  by 
presents. 

It  is  pity  that  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald  did  not 
leave  a  detailed  account  of  his  journey  through  the 
wilderness,  where  he  was  pilot  of  an  unknown  course 


228  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

for  twenty  days,  as  Murray  and  Henry  have  of  theirs. 
There  is  nothing  more  interesting  than  to  see  the 
civilized  man  thus  thrown  wholly  on  himself  and  his 
manhood,  and  not  found  at  fault. 

McKenney  and  Hall's  book  upon  the  Indians  is  a 
valuable  work.  The  portraits  of  the  chiefs  alone 
would  make  a  history,  and  they  are  beautifully 
colored. 

Most  of  the  anecdotes  may  be  found  again  in 
Drake's  Book  of  the  Indians  ;  which  will  afford  a 
useful  magazine  to  their  future  historian. 

I  shall,  however,  cite  a  few  of  them,  as  especially 
interesting  to  myself. 

Of  Guess,  the  inventor  of  the  Cherokee  alphabet, 
it  was  observable  in  the  picture,  and  observed  in  the 
text,  that  his  face  had  an  oriental  cast.  The  same, 
we  may  recall,  was  said  of  that  of  the  Seeress  of  Pre- 
vorst,  and  the  circumstance  presents  pleasing  analogies. 
Intellect  dawning  through  features  still  simple  and  na 
tional,  presents  very  different  apparitions  from  the 
"  expressive  "  and  "  historical "  faces  of  a  broken 
and  cultured  race,  where  there  is  always  more  to 
divine  than  to  see. 

Of  the  picture  of  the  Flying  Pigeon,  the  beautiful 
and  excellent  woman  mentioned  above,  a  keen  observer 
said,  "  If  you  cover  the  forehead,  you  would  think  the 
face  that  of  a  Madonna,  but  the  forehead  is  still  savage  ; 
the  perceptive  faculties  look  so  sharp,  and  the  fore 
head  not  moulded  like  a  European  forehead."  This 
is  very  true  ;  in  her  the  moral  nature  was  most  de 
veloped,  and  the  effect  of  a  higher  growth  upon  her 
face  is  entirely  different  from  that  upon  Guess. 


RED    JACKET.  229 

His  eye  is  inturned,  while  the  proper  Indian  eye 
gazes  steadily,  as  if  on  a  distant  object.  That  is  half 
the  romance  of  it,  that  it  makes  you  think  of  dark 
and  distant  places  in  the  forest. 

Guess  always  preferred  inventing  his  implements 
to  receiving  them  from  others  :  and,  when  consider 
ed  as  mad  by  his  tribe,  while  bent  on  the  invention 
of  his  alphabet,  contented  himself  with  teaching  it  to 
his  little  daughter  ;  an  unimpeachable  witness. 

Red  Jacket's  face,  too,  is  much  more  intellectual 
than  almost  any  other.  But,  in  becoming  so,  it  loses 
nothing  of  the  peculiar  Indian  stamp,  but  only  carries 
these  traits  to  their  perfection.  Irony,  discernment, 
resolution,  and  a  deep  smouldering  fire,  that  disdains 
to  flicker  where  it  cannot  blaze,  may  there  be  read. 
Nothing  can  better  represent  the  sort  of  unfeelingness 
the  whites  have  towards  the  Indians,  than  their  conduct 
towards  his  remains.  He  had  steadily  opposed  the 
introduction  of  white  religion,  or  manners,  among  the 
Indians.  He  believed  that  for  them  to  break  down 
the  barriers  was  to  perish.  On  many  occasions  he 
had  expressed  this  with  all  the  force  of  his  eloquence. 
He  told  the  preachers,  "  if  the  Great  Spirit  had  meant 
your  religion  for  the  red  man,  he  would  have  given  it 
to  them.  What  they  (the  missionaries)  tell  us,  we 
do  not  understand  ;  and  the  light  they  ask  for  us, 
makes  the  straight  and  plain  path  trod  by  our  fathers 
dark  and  dreary.'' 

When  he  died,  he  charged  his  people  to  inter  him 

themselves.      "  Dig  my  grave  yourselves,  and  let  not 

the  white  man  pursue  me  there."     In  defiance  of  this 

last  solemn  request,  and  the  invariable  tenor  of  his 

20 


230  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

life,  the  missionaries  seized  the  body  and  performed 
their  service  over  it,  amid  the  sullen  indignation  of 
his  people,  at  what,  under  the  circumstances,  was 
sacrilege. 

Of  Indian  religion  a  fine. specimen  is  given  in  the 
conduct  of  one  of  the  war  chiefs,  who,  on  an  impor 
tant  occasion,  made  a  vow  to  the  sun  of  entire  re 
nunciation  in  case  he  should  be  crowned  with  success. 
When  he  was  so,  he  first  went  through  a  fast,  and 
sacrificial  dance,  involving  great  personal  torment, 
and  lasting  several  days ;  then,  distributing  all  his 
property,  even  his  lodges,  and  mats,  among  the  tribe, 
he  and  his  family  took  up  their  lodging  upon  the  bare 
ground,  beneath  the  bare  sky. 

The  devotion  of  the  Stylites  and  the  hair-cloth 
saints,  is  in  act,  though  not  in  motive,  less  noble,  be 
cause  this  great  chief  proposed  to  go  on  in  common 
life,  where  he  had  lived  as  a  prince  —  a  beggar. 

The  memoir  by  Corn  Plant  of  his  early  days  is 
beautiful.  t 

Very  fine  anecdotes  are  told  of  two  of  the  Western 
chiefs,  father  and  son,  who  had  the  wisdom  to  see 
the  true  policy  toward  the  whites,  and  steadily  to  ad 
here  to  it.  -Kit  ' 

A  murder  having  taken  place  in  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  father,  he  delivered  himself  up,  with  those  sus 
pected,  to  imprisonment.  One  of  his  companions 
chafed  bitterly  under  confinement.  He  told  the 
chief,  if  they  ever  got  out,  he  would  kill  him,  and 
did  so.  The  son,  then  a  boy,  came  in  his  rage  and 
sorrow,  to  this  Indian,  and  insulted  him  in  .every  way. 
The  squaw,  angry  at  this,  urged  her  husband  "  to  kill 


PETALESHARRO.  231 

the  boy  at  once."  But  he  only  replied  with  "  the  joy 
of  the  valiant,"  "  He  will  be  a  great  Brave,"  and 
then  delivered  himself  up  to  atone  for  his  victim, 
and  met  his  death  with  the  noblest  Roman  com 
posure. 

This  boy  became  rather  a  great  chief  than  a  great 
brave,  and  the  anecdotes  about  him  are  of  signal 
beauty  and  significance. 

There  is  a  fine  story  of  an  old  mother,  who  gave 
herself  to  death  instead  of  her  son.  The  son,  at  the 
time,  accepted  the  sacrifice,  seeing,  with  Indian  cool 
ness,  that  it  was  better  she  should  give  up  her  few 
solitary  and  useless  days,  than  he  a  young  existence 
full  of  promise.  But  he  could  not  abide  by  this  view, 
and  after  suffering  awhile  all  the  anguish  of  remorse, 
he  put  himself  solemnly  to  death  in  the  presence  of  the 
tribe,  as  the  only  atonement  he  could  make.  His 
young  wife  stood  by,  with  her  child  in  her  arms,  com 
manding  her  emotions,  as  he  desired,  for,  no  doubt,  it 
seemed  to  her  also,  a  sacred  duty. 

But  the  finest  story  of  all  is  that  of  Petalesharro,  in 
whose  tribe  at  the  time,  arid  not  many  years  since, 
the  custom  of  offering  human  sacrifices  still  subsisted. 
The  fire  was  kindled,  the  victim,  a  young  female  cap 
tive,  bound  to  the  stake,  the  tribe  assembled  round. 
The  young  brave  darted  through  them,  snatched  the 
girl  from  her  peril,  placed  her  upon  his  horse,  and 
both  had  vanished  before  the  astonished  spectators 
had  thought  to  interpose. 

He  placed  the  girl  in  her  distant  home,  and  then 
returned.  Such  is  the  might  of  right,  when  joined 
with  courage,  that  none  ventured  a  word  of  resent- 


232  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

ment  or  question.  His  father,  struck  by  truth,  en 
deavored,  and  with  success,  to  abolish  the  barbarous 
custom  in  the  tribe.  On  a  later  occasion,  Petalesharro 
again  offered  his  life,  if  required,  but  it  was  not. 

This  young  warrior  visiting  Washington,  a  medal 
was  presented  him  in  honor  of  these  acts.  His  reply 
deserves  sculpture :  "  When  I  did  it,  I  knew  not  that 
it  was  good.  I  did  it  in  ignorance.  This  medal 
makes  me  know  that  it  was  good." 

The  recorder,  through  his  playful  expressions  of 
horror  at  a  declaration  so  surprising  to  the  civilized 
Good,  shows  himself  sensible  to  the  grand  simplicity 
of  heroic  impulse  it  denotes.  Were  we,  too,  so  good, 
as  to  need  a  medal  to  show  us  that  we  are  ! 

The  half-breed  and  half-civilized  chiefs,  however 
handsome,  look  vulgar  beside  the  pure  blood.  They 
have  the  dignity  of  neither  race. 

The  death  of  Oseola,  (as  described  by  Catlin,) 
presents  a  fine  picture  in  the  stern,  warlike  kind,  tak 
ing  leave  with  kindness,  as  a  private  friend,  of  the 
American  officers ;  but,  as  a  foe  in  national  regards, 
he  raised  himself  in  his  dying  bed,  and  painted  his 
face  with  the  tokens  of  eternal  enmity. 

The  historian  of  the  Indians  should  be  one  of  their 
own  race,  as  able  to  sympathize  with  them,  and  pos 
sessing  a  mind  as  enlarged  and  cultivated  as  John 
Ross,  and  with  his  eye  turned  to  the  greatness  of  the 
past,  rather  than  the  scanty  promise  of  the  future. 
Hearing  of  the  wampum  belts,  supposed  to  have  been 
sent  to  our  tribes  by  Montezuma,  on  the  invasion  of 
the  Spaniard,  we  feel  that  an  Indian  who  could  glean 
traditions  familiarly  from  the  old  men,  might  collect 
much  that  we  could  interpret. 


MACKENZIE.  233 

Still,  any  clear  outline,  even  of  a  portion  of  their 
past,  is  not  to  be  hoped,  and  we  shall  be  well  con 
tented  if  we  can  have  a  collection  of  genuine  frag 
ments,  that  will  indicate  as  clearly  their  life,  as 
a  horse's  head  from  the  Parthenon  the  genius  of 
Greece. 

Such,  to  me,  are  the  stories  I  have  cited  above. 
And  even  European  sketches  of  this  greatness,  dis 
tant  and  imperfect  though  they  be,  yet  convey  the 
truth,  if  made  in  a  sympathizing  spirit.  Adair's 
Red  Shoes,  Murray's  old  man,  Catlin's  noble  Man- 
dan  chief,  Henry's  Wa-wa-tam,  with  what  we  know 
of  Philip,  Pontiac,  Tecumseh  and  Red  Jacket,  would 
suffice  to  give  the  ages  a  glimpse  at  what  was  great 
in  Indian  life  and  Indian  character. 

We  hope,  too,  there  will  be  a  national  institute, 
containing  all  the  remains  of  the  Indians,  —  all  that 
has  been  preserved  by  official  intercourse  at  Wash 
ington,  Catlin's  collection,  and  a  picture  gallery  as 
complete  as  can  be  made,  with  a  collection  of  skulls 
from  all  parts  of  the  country.  To  this  should  be 
joined  the  scanty  library  that  exists  on  the  subject. 

I  have  not  mentioned  Mackenzie's  Travels.  He 
is  an  accurate  observer,  but  sparing  in  his  records, 
because  his  attention  was  wholly  bent  on  his  own  ob 
jects.  This  circumstance  gives  a  heroic  charm  to  his 
scanty  and  simple  narrative.  Let  what  will  happen, 
or  who  will  go  back,  he  cannot ;  he  must  find  the 
sea,  along  those  frozen  rivers,  through  those  starving 
countries,  among  tribes  of  stinted  men,  whose  habit 
ual  interjection  was  "  edui,  it  is  hard,  uttered  in  a 
querulous  tone,"  distrusted  by  his  followers,  deserted 
20*  • 


234  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

by  his  guides,  on,  on  he  goes,  till  he  sees  the  sea, 
cold,  lowering,  its  strand  bristling  with  foes  ;  but  he 
does  see  it. 

His  few  observations,  especially  on  the  tribes  who 
lived  on  fish,  and  held  them  in  such  superstitious  ob 
servance,  give  a  lively  notion  of  the  scene. 

A  little  pamphlet  has  lately  been  published,  giving 
an  account  of  the  massacre  at  Chicago,  which  I  wish 
much  I  had  seen  while  there,  as  it  would  have  im 
parted  an  interest  to  spots  otherwise  barren.  It  is 
written  with  animation,  and  in  an  excellent  style, 
telling  just  what  we  want  to  hear,  and  no  more. 
The  traits  given  of  Indian  generosity  are  as  charac 
teristic  as  those  of  Indian  cruelty.  A  lady,  who  was 
saved  by  a  friendly  chief  holding  her  under  the  waters  of 
the  lake,  while  the  balls  were  whizzing  around,  received 
also,  in  the  heat  of  the  conflict,  a  reviving  draught 
from  a  squaw,  who  saw  she  was  exhausted  ;  and,  as 
she  lay  down,  a  mat  was  hung  up  between  her  and 
the  scene  of  butchery,  so  that  she  was  protected  from 
the  sight,  though  she  could  not  be  from  sounds,  full 
of  horror. 

I  have  not  wished  to  write  sentimentally  about  the 
Indians,  however  moved  by  the  thought  of  their  wrongs 
and  speedy  extinction.  I  know  that  the  Europeans 
who  took  possession  of  this  country,  felt  themselves 
justified  by  their  superior  civilization  and  religious 
ideas.  Had  they  been  truly  civilized  or  Christianized, 
the  conflicts  which  sprang  from  the  collision  of  the 
two  races,  might  have  been  avoided  ;  .but  this  cannot 
be  expected  in  movements  made  by  masses  of  men. 
The  mass  has  never  yet  been  humanized,  though  the 
age  may  develop  a  human  thought. 


M'KENNEY.  235 

Since  those  conflicts  and  differences  did  arise,  the 
hatred  which  sprang,  from  terror  and  suffering,  on  the 
European  side,  has  naturally  warped  the  whites  still 
farther  from  justice. 

The  Indian,  brandishing  the  scalps  of  his  friends 
and  wife,  drinking  their  blood  and  eating  their  hearts, 
is  by  him  viewed  as  a  fiend,  though,  at  a  distant  day, 
he  will  no  doubt  be  considered  as  having  acted  the 
Roman  or  Carthaginian  part  of  heroic  and  patriotic 
self-defence,  according  to  the  standard  of  right  and 
motives  prescribed  by  his  religious  faith  and  educa 
tion.  Looked  at  by  his  own  standard,  he  is  virtuous 
when  he  most  injures  his  enemy,  and  the  white,  if  he 
be  really  the  superior  in  enlargement  of  thought, 
ought  to  cast  aside  his  inherited  prejudices  enough  to 
see  this,  —  to  look  on  him  in  pity  and  brotherly  good 
will,  and  do  all  he  can  to  mitigate  the  doom  of  those 
who  survive  his  past  injuries. 

In  McKenney's  book,  is  proposed  a  project  for  or 
ganizing  the  Indians  under  a  patriarchal  government, 
but  it  does  not  look  feasible,  even  on  paper.  Could 
their  own  intelligent  men  be  left  to  act  unimpeded 
in  their  behalf,  they  would  do  far  better  for  them 
than  the  white  thinker,  with  all  his  general  know 
ledge.  But  we  dare  not  hope  the  designs  of  such 
will  not  always  be  frustrated  by  the  same  barbarous 
selfishness  they  were  in  Georgia.  There  was  a  chance 
of  seeing  what  might  have  been  done,  now  lost  for 
ever. 

Yet  let  every  man  look  to  himself  how  far  this 
blood  shall  be  required  at  his  hands.  Let  the  mis 
sionary,  instead  of  preaching  to  the  Indian,  preach  to 


236  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

the  trader  who  ruins  him,  of  the  dreadful  account 
which  will  be  demanded  of  the  followers  of  Cain,  in 
a  sphere  where  the  accents  of  purity  and  love  come  on 
the  ear  more  decisively  than  in  ours.  Let  every  legis 
lator  take  the  subject  to  heart,  and  if  he  cannot  undo 
the  effects  of  past  sin,  try  for  that  clear  view  and 
right  sense  that  may  save  us  from  sinning  still  more 
deeply.  And  let  every  man  and  every  woman,  in 
their  private  dealings  with  the  subjugated  race,  avoid 
all  share  in  embittering,  by  insult  or  unfeeling  preju 
dice,  the  captivity  of  Israel. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


SAULT    ST.    MARIE.. 

NINE  days  I  passed  alone  at  Mackinaw,  except  for 
occasional  visits  from  kind  and  agreeable  residents  at 
the  fort,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  A.  Mr.  A.,  long  engaged 
in  the  fur-trade,  is  gratefully  remembered  by  many 
travellers.  From  Mrs.  A.,  also,  I  received  kind  at 
tentions,  paid  in  the  vivacious  and  graceful  manner 
of  her  nation. 

The  society  at  the  boarding  house  entertained,  be 
ing  of  a  kind  entirely  new  to  me.  There  were  many 
traders  from  the  remote  stations,  such  as  La  Pointe, 
Arbre  Croche,  —  men  who  had  become  half  wild 
and  wholly  rude,  by  living  in  the  wild  ;  but  good-hu 
mored,  observing,  and  with  a  store  of  knowledge  to 
impart,  of  the  kind  proper  to  their  place. 

There  were  two  little  girls  here,  that  were  pleasant 
companions  for  me.  One  gay,  frank,  impetuous,  but 
sweet  and  winning.  She  was  an  American,  fair,  and 
with  bright  brown  hair.  The  other,  a  little  French 
Canadian,  used  to  join  me  in  my  walks,  silently  take 
my  hand,  and  sit  at  my  feet  when  I  stopped  in  beau- 


238  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

tiful  places.  She  seemed  to  understand  without  a 
word  ;  and  I  never  shall  forget  her  little  figure,  with 
its  light,  but  pensive  motion,  and  her  delicate,  grave 
features,  with  the  pale,  clear  complexion  and  soft  eye. 
She  was  motherless,  and  much  left  alone  by  her  fa 
ther  and  brothers,  who  were  boatmen.  The  two  lit 
tle  girls  were  as  pretty  representatives  of  Allegro  and 
Penseroso,  as  one  would  wish  to  see. 

I  had  been  wishing  that  a  boat  would  come  in  to  take 
me  to  the  Sault  St.  Marie,  and  several  times  started 
to  the  window  at  night  in  hopes  that  the  pant  and 
dusky-red  light  crossing  the  waters  belonged  to  such 
an  one  ;  but  they  were  always  boats  for  Chicago  or 
Buffalo,  till,  on  the  28th  of  August,  Allegro,  who 
shared  my  plans  and  wishes,  rushed  in  to  tell  me  that 
the  General  Scott  had  come,  and,  in  this  little  steamer, 
accordingly,  I  set  off  the  next  morning. 

I  was  the  only  lady,  and  attended  in  the  cabin  by 
a  Dutch  girl  and  an  Indian  woman.  They  both 
spoke  English  fluently,  and  entertained  me  much  by 
accounts  of  their  different  experiences. 

The  Dutch  girl  told  me  of  a  dance  among  the  com 
mon  people  at  Amsterdam,  called  the  shepherd's 
dance.  The>two  leaders  are  dressed  as  shepherd  and 
shepherdess  ;  they  invent  to  the  music  all  kinds  of 
movements,  descriptive  of  things  that  may  happen  in 
the  field,  and  the  rest  were  obliged  to  follow.  I  have 
never  heard  of  any  dance  which  gave  such  free  play 
to  the  fancy  as  this.  French  dances  merely  describe 
the  polite  movements  of  society  ;  Spanish  and  Nea 
politan,  love ;  the  beautiful  Mazurkas,  &c.,  are  war- 


THE    GENERAL    SCOTT.  239 

like  or  expressive  of  wild  scenery.  But  in  this  one 
is  great  room  both  for  fun  and  fancy. 

The  Indian  was  married,  when  young,  by  her  pa 
rents,  to  a  man  she  did  not  love.  He  became  dissi 
pated,  and  did  not  maintain  her.  She  left  him. 
taking  with  her  their  child  ;  for  whom  and  herself  she 
earns  a  subsistence  by  going  as  chambermaid  in 
these  boats.  Now  and  then,  she  said,  her  husband 
called  on  her,  and  asked  if  he  might  live  with  her 
again  ;  but  she  always  answered,  no.  Here  she  was 
far  freer  than  she  would  have  been  in  civilized  life. 

I  was  pleased  by  the  nonchalance  of  this  woman, 
and  the  perfectly  national  manner  she  had  preserved 
after  so  many  years  of  contact  with  all  kinds  of  peo 
ple.  The  two  women,  when  I  left  the  boat,  made 
me  presents  of  Indian  work,  such  as  travellers  value, 
and  the  manner  of  the  two  was  characteristic  of  their 
different  nations.  The  Indian  brought  me  hers,  when 
I  was  alone,  looked  bashfully  down  when  she  gave  it, 
and  made  an  almost  sentimental  little  speech.  The 
Dutch  girl  brought  hers  in  public,  and,  bridling  her 
short  chin  with  a  self-complacent  air,  observed  she 
had  bought  it  for  me.  But  the  feeling  of  affectionate 
regard  was  the  same  in  the  minds  of  both. 

Island  after  island  we  passed,  all  fairly  shaped  and 
clustering  friendly,  but  with  little  variety  of  vegetation. 

In  the  afternoon  the  weather  became  foggy,  and 
we  could  not  proceed  after  dark.  That  was  as  dull 
an  evening  as  ever  fell. 

The  next  morning  the  fog  still  lay  heavy,  but 
the  captain  took  me  out  in  his  boat  on  an  ex 
ploring  expedition,  and  we  found  the  remains  of 


240          SUMMTER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

the  old  English  fort  on  Point  St.  Joseph's.  All 
around  was  so  wholly  unmarked  by  anything  but 
stress  of  wind  and  weather,  the  shores  of  these 
islands  and  their  woods  so  like  one  another,  wild  and 
lonely,  but  nowhere  rich  and  majestic,  that  there  was 
some  charm  in  the  remains  of  the  garden,  the  re 
mains  even  of  chimneys  and  a  pier.  They  gave  fea 
ture  to  the  scene. 

Here  I  gathered  many  flowers,  but  they  were  the 
same  as  at  Mackinaw. 

The  captain,  though  he  had  been  on  this  trip  hun 
dreds  of  times,  had  never  seen  this  spot,  and  never 
would,  but  for  this  fog,  and  his  desire  to  entertain  me. 
He  presented  a  striking  instance  how  men,  for  the 
sake  of  getting  a  living,  forget  to  live.  It  is  just  the 
same  in  the  most  romantic  as  the  most  dull  and  vul 
gar  places.  Men  get  the  harness  on  so  fast,  that  they 
can  never  shake  it  off,  unless  they  guard  against  this 
danger  from  the  very  first.  In  Chicago,  how  many 
men,  who  never  found  time  to  see  the  prairies  or  learn 
anything  unconnected  with  the  business  of  the  day, 
or  about  the  country  they  were  living  in ! 

So  this  captain,  a  man  of  strong  sense  and  good 
eyesight,  rarely  found  time  to  go  off  the  track  or  look 
about  him  on  it.  He  lamented,  too,  that  there  had 
been  no  call  which  induced  him  to  develop  his  pow 
ers  of  expression,  so  that  he  might  communicate  what 
he  had  seen,  for  the  enjoyment  or  instruction  of 
others. 

This  is  a  common  fault  among  the  active  men,  the 
truly  living,  who  could  tell  what  life  is.  It  should  not 
be  so.  Literature  should  not  be  left  to  the  mere  lit- 


241 

erati  —  eloquence  to  the  mere  orator.  Every  Caesar 
should  be  able  to  write  his  own  commentary.  We 
want  a  more  equal,  more  thorough,  more  harmonious 
development,  and  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  from  it 
the  men  of  this  country,  except  their  own  supine- 
ness,  or  sordid  views. 

When  the  weather  did  clear,  our  course  up  the 
river  was  delightful.  Long  stretched  before  us  the 
island  of  St.  Joseph's,  with  its  fair  woods  of  sugar 
maple.  A  gentleman  on  board,  who  belongs  to  the 
Fort  at  the  Sault,  said  their  pastime  was  to  come  in 
the  season  of  making  sugar,  and  pass  some  time  on 
this  island,  —  the  days  at  work,  and  the  evening  in 
dancing  and  other  amusements. 

I  wished  to  extract  here  Henry's  account  of  this, 
for  it  was  just  the  same  sixty  years  ago  as  now,  but 
have  already  occupied  too  much  room  with  extracts. 
Work  of  this  kind  done  in  the  open  air,  where  every 
thing  is  temporary,  and  every  utensil  prepared  on  the 
spot,  gives  life  a  truly  festive  air.  At  such  times, 
there  is  labor  and  no  care  —  energy  with  gaiety, 
gaiety  of  the  heart. 

I  think  with  the  same  pleasure  of  the  Italian  vint 
age,  the  Scotch  harvest-home,  with  its  evening  dance 
in  the  barn,  the  Russian  cabbage-feast  even,  and  our 
huskings  and  hop-gatherings  —  the  hop-gatherings 
where  the  groups  of  men  and  girls  are  pulling  down 
and  filling  baskets  with  the  gay  festoons,  present  as 
graceful  pictures  as  the  Italian  vintage. 

I  should  also  like  to  insert  Henry's  descriptions  of 
the  method  of  catching  trout  and  white  fish,  the 
delicacies  of  this  region,  for  the  same  reason  as  I  want 
21 


242  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

his  account  of  the  Gens  de  Terre,  the  savages  among 
savages,  and  his  tales,  dramatic,  if  not  true,  of  can 
nibalism. 

I  have  no  less  grieved  to  omit  Carver's  account  of 
the  devotion  of  a  Winnebago  prince  at  the  Falls  of 
St.  Anthony,  which  he  describes  with  a  simplicity 
and  intelligence,  that  are  very  pleasing. 

I  take  the  more  pleasure  in  both  Carver  and  Hen 
ry's  power  of  appreciating  what  is  good  in  the  Indian 
character,  that  both  had  run  the  greatest  risk  of  losing 
their  lives  during  their  intercourse  with  the  Indians, 
and  had  seen  them  in  their  utmost  exasperation,  with 
all  its  revolting  circumstances. 

I  wish  I  had  a  thread  long  enough  to  string  on  it 
all  these  beads  that  take  my  fancy  ;  but,  as  I  have  not, 
I  can  only  refer  the  reader  to  the  books  themselves, 
which  may  be  found  in  the  library  of  Harvard  Col 
lege,  if  not  elsewhere. 

How  pleasant  is  the  course  along  a  new  river,  the 
sight  of  new  shores ;  like  a  life,  would  but  life  flow  as 
fast,  and  upbear  us  with  as  full  a  stream.  I  hoped  we 
should  come  in  sight  of  the  rapids  by  daylight  ;  but 
the  beautiful  sunset  was  quite  gone,  and  only  a  young 
moon  trembling  over  the  scene,  when  we  came  within 
hearing  of  them. 

I  sat  up  long  to  hear  them  merely.  It  was  a 
thoughtful  hour.  These  two  days,  the  29th  and  30th 
August,  are  memorable  in  my  life  ;  the  latter  is  the 
birth-day  of  a  near  friend.  I  pass  them  alone, 
approaching  Lake  Superior  ;  but  I  shall  not  enter 
into  that  truly  wild  and  free  region  ;  shall  not  have 
the  canoe  voyage,  whose  daily  adventure,  with  the 


EDITH.  243 

camping  out  at  night  beneath  the  stars,  would  have 
given  an  interlude  of  such  value  to  my  existence.  I 
shall  not  see  the  Pictured  Rocks,  their  chapels  and 
urns.  It  did  not  depend  on  me  ;  it  never  has, 
whether  such  things  shall  be  done  or  not. 

My  friends  !  may  they  see,  and  do,  and  be  more, 
especially  those  who  have  before  them  a  greater 
number  of  birthdays,  and  of  a  more  healthy  and 
unfettered  existence : 

TO  EDITH,  ON  HER  BIRTHDAY. 

If  the  same  star  our  fates  together  bind, 
Why  are  we  thus  divided,  mind  from  mind  ? 
If  the  same  law  one  grief  to  both  impart, 
How  could' st  thou  grieve  a  trusting  mother's  heart  ? 

Our  aspiration  seeks  a  common  aim, 
Why  were  we  tempered  of  such  differing  frame  ? 
—  But  'tis  too  late  to  turn  this  wrong  to  right ; 
Too  cold,  too  damp,  too  deep,  has  fallen  the  night, 

And  yet,  the  angel  of  my  life  replies, 
Upon  that  night  a  Morning  Star  shall  rise, 
Fairer  than  that  which  ruled  the  temporal  birth, 
Undimmed  by  vapors  of  the  dreamy  earth ; 

It  says,  that,  where  a  heart  thy  claim  denies, 
Genius  shall  read  its  secret  ere  it  flies  ; 
The  earthly  form  may  vanish  from  thy  side, 
Pure  love  will  make  thee  still  the  spirit's  bride. 

And  thou,  ungentle,  yet  much  loving  child, 
Whose  heart  still  shows  the  "  untamed  haggard  wild," 
A  heart  which  justly  makes  the  highest  claim, 
Too  easily  is  checked  by  transient  blame ; 


244  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

Ere  such  an  orb  can  ascertain  its  sphere, 
The  ordeal  must  be  various  and  severe  ; 
My  prayers  attend  thee,  though  the  feet  may  fly, 
I  hear  thy  music  in  the  silent  sky. 

I  should  like,  however,  to  hear  some  notes  of 
earthly  music  to-night.  By  the  faint  moonshine  I 
can  hardly  see  the  banks  ;  how  they  look  I  have  no 
guess,  except  that  there  are  trees,  and,  now  and 
then,  a  light  lets  me  know  there  are  homes  with 
their  various  interests.  I  should  like  to  hear  some 
strains  of  the  flute  from  beneath  those  trees,  just  to 
break  the  sound  of  the  rapids. 

When  no  gentle  eyebeam  charms ; 
No  fond  hope  the  bosom  warms ; 
Of  thinking  the  lone  mind  is  tired  — 
Nought  seems  bright  to  be  desired  ; 

Music,  be  thy  sails  unfurled, 
Bear  me  to  thy  better  world  ; 
O'er  a  cold  and  weltering  sea, 
Blow  thy  breezes  warm  and  free  ; 

By  sad  sighs  they  ne'er  were  chilled, 

By  sceptic  spell  were  never  stilled  ; 

Take  me  to  that  far-offshore, 

Where  lovers  meet  to  part  no  more  ; 

There  doubt,  and  fear  and  sin  are  o'er, 
The  star  of  love  shall  set  no  more. 

With  the  first  light  of  dawn  I  was  up  and  out, 
and  then  was  glad  I  had  not  seen  all  the  night 
before  ;  it  came  upon  me  with  such  power  in 


RAPIDS.  245 

its  dewy  freshness.  O  !  they  are  beautiful  indeed, 
these  rapids  !  The  grace  is  so  much  more  ob 
vious  than  the  power.  I  went  up  through  the  old 
Chippeway  burying  ground  to  their  head,  and  sat 
down  on  a  large  stone  to  look.  A  little  way  off 
was  one  of  the  home  lodges,  unlike  in  shape  to 
the  temporary  ones  at  Mackinaw,  but  these  have 
been  described  by  Mrs.  Jameson.  Women,  too,  I 
saw  coming  home  from  the  woods,  stooping  under 
great  loads  of  cedar  boughs,  that  were  strapped 
upon  their  backs.  But  in  many  European  coun 
tries  women  carry  great  loads,  even  of  wood,  upon 
their  backs.  I  used  to  hear  the  girls  singing  and  laugh 
ing  as  they  were  cutting  down  boughs  at  Mackinaw  ; 
this  part  of  their  employment,  though  laborious, 
gives  them  the  pleasure  of  being  a  great  deal  in  the 
free  woods. 

I  had  ordered  a  canoe  to  take  me  down  the  rapids, 
and  presently  I  saw  it  coming,  with  the  two  Indian 
canoe-men  in  pink  calico  shirts,  moving  it  about  with 
their  long  poles,  with  a  grace  and  dexterity  worthy 
fairy  land.  Now  and  then  they  cast  the  scoop-net  ; 
all  looked  just  as  I  had  fancied,  only  far  prettier. 

When  they  came  to  me,  they  spread  a  mat  in  the 
middle  of  the  canoe  ;  I  sat  down,  and  in  less  than 
four  minutes  we  had  descended  the  rapids,  a  distance 
of  more  than  three  quarters  of  a  mile.  I  was  some 
what  disappointed  in  this  being  no  more  of  an  exploit 
than  I  found  it.  Having  heard  such  expressions  used 
as  of  "  darting,"  or,  "  shooting  down,"  these  rapids, 
I  had  fancied  there  was  a  wall  of  rock  somewhere, 
where  descent  would  somehow  be  accomplished,  and 
21* 


246  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

that  there  would  come  some  one  gasp  of  terror  and 
delight,  some  sensation  entirely  new  to  me  ;  but  I 
found  myself  in  smooth  water,  before  I  had  time  to 
feel  anything  but  the  buoyant  pleasure  of  being  car 
ried  so  lightly  through  this  surf  amid  the  breakers. 
Now  and  then  the  Indians  spoke  to  one  another  in  a 
vehement  jabber,  which,  however,  had  no  tone  that 
expressed  other  than  pleasant  excitement.  It  is,  no 
doubt,  an  act  of  wonderful  dexterity  to  steer  amid 
these  jagged  rocks,  when  one  rude  touch  would  tear 
a  hole  in  the  birch  canoe ;  but  these  men  are  evi 
dently  so  used  to  doing  it,  and  so  adroit,  that  the 
silliest  person  could  not  feel  afraid.  I  should  like 
to  have  come  down  twenty  times,  that  I  might  have 
had  leisure  to  realize  the  pleasure.  But  the  fog 
which  had  detained  us  on  the  way,  shortened  the 
boat's  stay  at  the  Sault,  and  I  wanted  my  time  to 
walk  about. 

While  coming  down  the  rapids,  the  Indians 
caught  a  white-fish  for  my  breakfast  ;  and  cer 
tainly  it  was  the  best  of  breakfasts.  The  white- 
fish  I  found  quite  another  thing  caught  on  this 
spot,  and  cooked  immediately,  from  what  I  had 
found  it  at  Chicago  or  Mackinaw.  Before,  I  had 
had  the  bad  taste  to  prefer  the  trout,  despite  the 
solemn  and  eloquent  remonstrances  of  the  Habi 
tues,  to  whom  the  superiority  of  white  fish  seem 
ed  a  cardinal  point  of  faith. 

I  am  here  reminded  that  I  have  omitted  that  indis 
pensable  part  of  a  travelling  journal,  the  account  of 
what  we  found  to  eat.  I  cannot  hope  to  make  up, 
by  one  bold  stroke,  all  my  omissions  of  daily  record  ; 


DINNERS.  247 

but  that  I  may  show  myself  not  destitute  of  the  com 
mon  feelings  of  humanity,  I  will  observe  that  he 
whose  affections  turn  in  summer  towards  vegetables, 
should  not  come  to  this  region,  till  the  subject  of  diet 
be  better  understood  ;  that  of  fruit,  too,  there  is  little 
yet,  even  at  the  best  hotel  tables  ;  that  the  prairie 
chickens  require  no  praise  from  me,  and  that  the  trout 
and  white-fish  are  worthy  the  transparency  of  the 
lake  waters. 

In  this  brief  mention  I  by  no  means  mean  to  give 
myself  an  air  of  superiority  to  the  subject.  If  a  din 
ner  in  the  Illinois  woods,  on  dry  bread  and  drier 
meat,  with  water  from  the  stream  that  flowed  hard 
by,  pleased  me  best  of  all,  yet  at  one  time,  when 
living  at  a  house  where  nothing  was  prepared  for  the 
table  fit  to  touch,  and  even  the  bread  could  not  be 
partaken  of  without  a  headach  in  consequence,  I 
learnt  to  understand  and  sympathize  with  the  anxious 
tone  in  which  fathers  of  families,  about  to  take  their 
innocent  children  into  some  scene  of  wild  beauty,  ask 
first  of  all,  "  Is  there  a  good  table  ?"  I  shall  ask  just  so 
in  future.  Only  those  whom  the  Powers  have  furnish 
ed  small  travelling  cases  of  ambrosia,  can  take  exercise 
all  day,  and  be  happy  without  even  bread  morning  or 
night. 

Our  voyage  back  was  all  pleasure.  It  was  the 
fairest  day.  I  saw  the  river,  the  islands,  the  clouds  to 
the  greatest  advantage. 

On  board  was  an  old  man,  an  Illinois  farmer,  whom 
I  found  a  most  agreeable  companion.  He  had  just 
been  with  his  son,  and  eleven  other  young  men,  on  an 
exploring  expedition  to  the  shores  of  lake  Superior. 
He  was  the  only  old  man  of  the  party,  but  he  had 


248  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

enjoyed,  most  of  any,  the  journey.  He  had  been  the 
counsellor  and  playmate,  too,  of  the  young  ones.  He 
was  one  of  those  parents,  —  why  so  rare  ?  —  who  un 
derstand  and  live  a  new  life  in  that  of  their  children, 
instead  of  wasting  time  and  young  happiness  in  try 
ing  to  make  them  conform  to  an  object  and  standard 
of  their  own.  The  character  and  history  of  each 
child  may  be  a  new  and  poetic  experience  to  the  pa 
rent,  if  he  will  let  it.  Our  farmer  was  domestic,  ju 
dicious,  solid  ;  the  son,  inventive,  enterprising,  super 
ficial,  full  of  follies,  full  of  resources,  always  liable  to 
failure,  sure  to  rise  above  it.  The  father  conformed 
to,  and  learnt  from,  a  character  he  could  not  change, 
and  won  the  sweet  from  the  bitter. 

His  account  of  his  life  at  home,  and  of  his  late 
adventures  among  the  Indians,  was  very  amusing,  but 
I  want  talent  to  write  it  down.  I  have  not  heard 
the  slang  of  these  people  intimately  enough.  There 
is  a  good  book  about  Indiana,  called  the  New  Pur 
chase,  written  by  a  person  who  knows  the  people  of 
the  country  well  enough  to  describe  them  in  their 
own  way.  It  is  not  witty,  but  penetrating,  valuable 
for  its  practical  wisdom  and  good-humored  fun. 

There  were  many  sportsman  stories  told,  too,  by 
those  from  Illinois  and  Wisconsin.  I  do  not  retain 
any  of  these  well  enough,  nor  any  that  I  heard  ear 
lier,  to  write  them  down,  though  they  always  interest 
ed  me  from  bringing  wild,  natural  scenes  before 
the  mind.  It  is  pleasant  for  the  sportsman  to  be  in 
countries  so  alive  with  game  ;  yet  it  is  so  plenty  that 
one  would  think  shooting  pigeons  or  grouse  would  seem 
more  like  slaughter,  than  the  excitement  of  skill  to  a 


1 1; 


MACKINAW.  249 

good  sportsman.  Hunting  the  deer  is  full  of  adven 
ture,  and  needs  only  a  Scrope  to  describe  it  to  invest 
the  western  woods  with  historic  associations. 

How  pleasant  it  was  to  sit  arid  hear  rough  men  tell 
pieces  out  of  their  own  common  lives,  in  place  of  the 
frippery  talk  of  some  fine  circle  with  its  conventional 
sentiment,  and  timid,  second-hand  criticism.  Free 
blew  the  wind,  and  boldly  flowed  the  stream,  named 
for  Mary  mother  mild. 

A  fine  thunder  shower  came  on  in  the  afternoon. 
It  cleared  at  sunset,  just  as  we  came  in  sight  of  beau 
tiful  Mackinaw,  over  which  a  rainbow  bent  in  pro 
mise  of  peace. 

I  have  always  wondered,  in  reading  travels,  at  the 
childish  joy  travellers  felt  at  meeting  people  they 
knew,  and  their  sense  of  loneliness  when  they  did 
not,  in  places  where  there  was  everything  new  to  oc 
cupy  the  attention.  So  childish,  I  thought,  always  to 
be  longing  for  the  new  in  the  old,  and  the  old  in  the 
new.  Yet  just  such  sadness  I  felt,  when  I  looked 
on  the  island,  glittering  in  the  sunset,  canopied  by 
the  rainbow,  and  thought  no  friend  would  welcome 
me  there ;  just  such  childish  joy  I  felt,  to  see  unex 
pectedly  on  the  landing,  the  face  of  one  whom  I  call 
ed  friend. 

The  remaining  two  or  three  days  were  delightfully 
spent,  in  walking  or  boating,  or  sitting  at  the  window 
to  see  the  Indians  go.  This  was  not  quite  so  pleas 
ant  as  their  coming  in,  though  accomplished  with 
the  same  rapidity ;  a  family  not  taking  half  an  hour 
to  prepare  for  departure,  and  the  departing  canoe  a 
beautiful  object.  But  they  left  behind,  on  all  the 


250  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

shore,  the  blemishes  of  their  stay  —  old  rags,  dried 
boughs,  fragments  of  food,  the  marks  of  their  fires. 
Nature  likes  to  cover  up  and  gloss  over  spots  and 
scars,  but  it  would  take  her  some  time  to  restore  that 
beach  to  the  state  it  was  in  before  they  came. 

S.  and  I  had  a  mind  for  a  canoe  excursion,  and 
we  asked  one  of  the  traders  to  engage  us  two  good 
Indians,  that  would  not  only  take  us  out,  but  be  sure 
and  bring  us  back,  as  we  could  not  hold  converse 
with  them.  Two  others  offered  their  aid,  beside  the 
chief's  son,  a  fine  looking  youth  of  about  sixteen, 
richly  dressed  in  blue  broadcloth,  scarlet  sash  and  leg- 
gins,  with  a  scarf  of  brighter  red  than  the  rest,  tied 
around  his  head,  its  ends  falling  gracefully  on  one 
shoulder.  They  thought  it,  apparently,  fine  amuse 
ment  to  be  attending  two  white  women  ;  they  carried 
us  into  the  path  of  the  steamboat,  which  was  going 
out,  and  paddled  with  all  their  force,  —  rather  too 
fast,  indeed,  for  there  was  something  of  a  swell  on 
the  lake,  and  they  sometimes  threw  water  into  the 
canoe.  However,  it  flew  over  the  waves,  light  as  a 
sea-gull.  They  would  say,  "  Pull  away,"  and  "  Ver' 
warm,"  and,  after  these  words,  would  laugh  gaily. 
They  enjoyed  the  hour,  I  believe,  as  much  as  we. 

The  house  where  we  lived  belonged  to  the  widow 
of  a  French  trader,  an  Indian  by  birth,  and  wearing 
the  dress  of  her  country.  She  spoke  French  fluently, 
and  was  very  ladylike  in  her  manners.  She  is  a 
great  character  among  them.  They  were  all  the 
time  coming  to  pay  her  homage,  or  to  get  her  aid 
and  advice;  for  she  is,  I  am  told,  a  shrewd  wo 
man  of  business.  My  companion  carried  about  her 


INDIANS.  251 

sketch-book  with  her,  and  the  Indians  were  inter 
ested  when  they  saw  her  using  her  pencil,  though 
less  so  than  about  the  sun-shade.  This  lady  of  the 
tribe  wanted  to  borrow  the  sketches  of  the  beach, 
with  its  lodges  and  wild  groups,  "to  show  to  the 
savages"  she  said. 

Of  the  practical  ability  of  the  Indian  women,  a 
good  specimen  is  given  by  McKenney,  in  an  amusing 
story  of  one  who  went  to  Washington,  and  acted 
her  part  there  in  the  "  first  circles,"  with  a  tact  and 
sustained  dissimulation  worthy  of  Cagliostro.  She 
seemed  to  have  a  thorough  love  of  intrigue  for  its 
own  sake,  and  much  dramatic  talent.  Like  the 
chiefs  of  her  nation,  when  on  an  expedition  among 
the  foe,  whether  for  revenge  or  profit,  no  impulses 
of  vanity  or  wayside  seductions  had  power  to  turn 
her  aside  from  carrying  out  her  plan  as  she  had  origi 
nally  projected  it. 

Although  I  have  little  to  tell,  I  feel  that  I  have 
learnt  a  great  deal  of  the  Indians,  from  observing 
them  even  in  this  broken  and  degraded  condition. 
There  is  a  language  of  eye  and  motion  which  cannot 
be  put  into  words,  and  which  teaches  what  words 
never  can.  I  feel  acquainted  with  the  soul  of  this 
race ;  I  read  its  nobler  thought  in  their  defaced 
figures.  There  was  a  greatness,  unique  and  precious, 
which  he  who  does  not  feel  will  never  duly  appre 
ciate  the  majesty  of  nature  in  this  American  con 
tinent. 

I  have  mentioned  that  the  Indian  orator,  who 
addressed  the  agents  on  this  occasion,  said,  the 
difference  between  the  white  man  and  the  red 


252  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

man  is  this  :  "  the  white  man  no  sooner  came  here, 
than  he  thought  of  preparing  the  way  for  his  pos 
terity  ;  the  red  man  never  thought  of  this."  I  was 
assured  this  was  exactly  his  phrase ;  and  it  defines 
the  true  difference.  We  get  the  better  because 
we  do 

"Look  before  and  after." 

But,  from  the  same  cause,  we 

"  Pine  for  what  is  not." 

The  red  man,  when  happy,  was  thoroughly  happy ; 
when  good,  was  simply  good.  He  needed  the 
medal,  to  let  him  know  that  he  was  good. 

These  evenings  we  were  happy,  looking  over  the 
old-fashioned  garden,  over  the  beach,  over  the  waters 
and  pretty  island  opposite,  beneath  the  growing 
moon;  we  did  not  stay  to  see  it  full  at  Mackinaw. 
At  two  o'clock,  one  night,  or  rather  morning,  the 
Great  Western  came  snorting  in,  and  we  must  go; 
and  Mackinaw,  and  all  the  north-west  summer,  is 
now  to  me  no  more  than  picture  and  dream ;  — 

"  A  dream  within  a  dream." 

These  last  days  at  Mackinaw  have  been  pleasanter 
than  the  "  lonesome  "  nine,  for  I  have  recovered  the 
companion  with  whom  I  set  out  from  the  East,  one 
who  sees  all,  prizes  all,  enjoys  much,  interrupts  never. 

At  Detroit  we  stopped  for  half  a  day.  This  place 
is  famous  in  our  history,  and  the  unjust  anger  at  its 
surrender  is  still  expressed  by  almost  every  one  who 


GENERAL    HULL.  253 

passes  there.  I  had  always  shared  the  common  feel 
ing  on  this  subject ;  for  the  indignation  at  a  disgrace 
to  our  arms  that  seemed  so  unnecessay,  has  been 
handed  down  from  father  to  child,  and  few  of  us 
have  taken  the  pains  to  ascertain  where  the  blame 
lay.  But  now,  upon  the  spot,  having  read  all  the 
testimony,  I  felt  convinced  that  it  should  rest  solely 
with  the  government,  which,  by  neglecting  to  sustain 
General  Hull,  as  he  had  a  right  to  expect  they  would, 
compelled  him  to  take  this  step,  or  sacrifice  many 
lives,  and  of  the  defenceless  inhabitants,  not  of  sol 
diers,  to  the  cruelty  of  a  savage  foe,  for  the  sake  of 
his  reputation. 

I  am  a  woman,  and  unlearned  in  such  affairs ;  but, 
to  a  person  with  common  sense  and  good  eyesight,  it 
is  clear,  when  viewing  the  location,  that,  under  the 
circumstances,  he  had  no  prospect  of  successful  de 
fence,  and  that  to  attempt  it  would  have  been  an  act 
of  vanity,  not  valor.  **.,.  x' 

I  feel  that  I  am  not  biased  in  this  judgment  by  my 
personal  relations,  for  I  have  always  heard  both  sides, 
and,  though  my  feelings  had  been  moved  by  the  pic 
ture  of  the  old  man  sitting  down,  in  the  midst  of  his 
children,  to  a  retired  and  despoiled  old  age,  after  a 
life  of  honor  and  happy  intercourse  with  the  public, 
yet  tranquil,  always  secure  that  justice  must  be  done 
at  kst,  I  supposed,  like  others,  that  he  deceived 
himself,  and  deserved  to  pay  the  penalty  for  fail 
ure  to  the  responsibility  he  had  undertaken.  Now 
on  the  spot,  I  change,  and  believe  the  country  at 
large  must,  ere  long,  change  from  this  opinion.  And 
I  wish  to  add  my  testimony,  however  trifling  its 
22 


254  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

weight,  before  it  be  drowned  in  the  voice  of  general 
assent,  that  I  may  do  some  justice  to  the  feelings 
which  possessed  me  here  and  now. 

A  noble  boat,  the  Wisconsin,  was  to  be  launched  this 
afternoon,  the  whole  town  was  out  in  many-colored 
array,  the  band  playing.  Our  boat  swept  round  to  a 
good  position,  and  all  was  ready  but  —  the  Wiscon 
sin,  which  could  not  be  made  to  stir.  This  was  quite 
a  disappointment.  It  would  have  been  an  imposing 
sight. 

In  the  boat  many  signs  admonished  that  we  were 
floating  eastward.  A  shabbily  dressed  phrenologist 
laid  his  hand  on  every  head  which  would  bend,  with 
half-conceited,  half-sheepish  expression,  to  the  trial 
of  his  skill.  Knots  of  people  gathered  here  and  there 
to  discuss  points  of  theology.  A  bereaved  lover  was 
seeking  religious  consolation  in  —  Butler's  Analogy, 
which  he  had  purchased  for  that  purpose.  However, 
he  did  not  turn  over  many  pages  before  his  attention 
was  drawn  aside  by  the  gay  glances  of  certain  dam 
sels  that  came  on  board  at  Detroit,  and,  though  But 
ler  might  afterwards  be  seen  sticking  from  his  pocket, 
it  had  not  weight  to  impede  him  from  many  a  feat  of 
lightness  and  liveliness.  I  doubt  if  it  went  with  him 
from  the  boat.  Some  there  were,  even,  discussing 
the  doctrines  of  Fourier.  It  seemed  pity  they  were 
not  going  to,  rather  than  from,  the  rich  and  free 
country  where  it  would  be  so  much  easier,  than  with 
us,  to  try  the  great  experiment  of  voluntary  associa 
tion,  and  show,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  "  an  ounce  of 
prevention  is  worth  a  pound  of  cure,"  a  maxim  of 


THE  BOOK  TO  THE  READER.         255 

the  "  wisdom  of  nations,"  which  has  proved  of  little 
practical  efficacy  as  yet. 

Better  to  stop  before  landing  at  Buffalo,  while  I 
have  yet  the  advantage  over  some  of  my  readers. 


THE   BOOK  TO   THE  READER 

WHO    OPENS,   AS    AMERICAN    READERS    OFTEN    DO,    AT    THE    END, 
WITH    DOGGEREL   SUBMISSION. 

To  see  your  cousin  in  her  country  home, 

If  at  the  time  of  blackberries  you  come, 

"  Welcome,  my  friends,"  she  cries  with  ready  glee, 

"  The  fruit  is  ripened,  and  the  paths  are  free. 

But,  madam,  you  will  tear  that  handsome  gown ; 

The  little  boy  be  sure  to  tumble  down ; 

And,  in  the  thickets  where  they  ripen  best, 

The  matted  ivy,  too,  its  bower  has  drest. 

And  then,  the  thorns  your  hands  are  sure  to  rend, 

Unless  with  heavy  gloves  you  will  defend  ; 

Amid  most  thorns  the  sweetest  roses  blow, 

Amid  most  thorns  the  sweetest  berries  grow." 

If,  undeterred,  you  to  the  fields  must  go, 

You  tear  your  dresses  and  you  scratch  your  hands  ; 

But,  in  the  places  where  the  berries  grow, 
A  sweeter  fruit  the  ready  sense  commands, 

Of  wild,  gay  feelings,  fancies  springing  sweet  — 

Of  bird-like  pleasures,  fluttering  and  fleet. 

Another  year,  you  cannot  go  yourself, 
To  win  the  berries  from  the  thickets  wild, 

And  housewife  skill,  instead,  has  filled  the  shelf 
With  blackberry  jam,  "  by  best  receipts  compiled,  - 


256  SUMMER  ON  THE  LAKES. 

Not  made  with  country  sugar,  for  too  strong 
The  flavors  that  to  maple  juice  belong  ; 
But  foreign  sugar,  nicely  mixed  '  to  suit 
The  taste,'  spoils  not  the  fragrance  of  the  fruit/' 

",'T  is  pretty  good,"  half-tasting,  you  reply, 

"  I  scarce  should  know  it  from  fresh  blackberry. 

But  the  best  pleasure  such  a  fruit  can  yield, 

Is  to  be  gathered  in  the  open  field  ; 

If  only  as  an  article  of  food, 

•Cherry  or  crab-apple  are  quite  as  good  ; 

And,  for  occasions  of  festivity,  • 

West  India  sweetmeats  you  had  better  buy." 

Thus,  such  a  dish  of  homely  sweets  as  these 
In  neither  way  may  chance  the  taste  to  please. 

Yet  try  a  little  with  the  evening-bread ; 
Bring  a  good  needle  for  the  spool  of  thread ; 
Take  fact  with  fiction,  silver  with  the  lead, 
And,  at  the  mint,  you  can  get  gold  instead  ; 
In  fine,  read  me,  even  as  you  would  be  read. 


